Cast Me Gently Into Morning
by Portrait of a Scribe
Summary: Post-DOC. "Only three months after the Deepground incident, things went to hell, again." CloTi. R because Cloud has a potty-mouth. VII, Dissidia, and XIII. Unofficial chapter 22: I'm back with "Manly" discussions, plus bombshells. Poor Cloud.
1. Nightfall

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 1: Nightfall._**

* * *

_"Cast me gently into morning, for the night has been unkind."  
__--Sarah McLachlan, "Answer"_

* * *

_The peace we'd found lasted only three months before it was shattered again. The whole Deepground incident had been put behind us, we had settled down, I had gotten my delivery schedule worked out so that I could spend time with Tifa and the kids. Teef and I had even started dating. Casually, of course, but that's beside the point._

_My point is, only three months after the Deepground incident, things went to hell, again._

_It all started on one of my ordinary delivery runs. The route was one that I took on a weekly basis, from Edge to Kalm to the Chocobo Ranch and back. The road was so wet that Fenrir's tires couldn't get a good grip on the asphalt; the water drove into my face harder by the second, streaming into my mouth, flying up my nose with the force of the howling wind, hitting me hard enough to hurt even me, with my Mako-enhanced body. I briefly wondered if I should stop for the night, wait out the storm. Then I decided against it. I really wanted to get home and see Tifa and sleep in my own bed for once._

_It was between the ranch and Kalm that I was stopped._

_There was a truck parked in the middle of the road, effectively blocking my way. I scowled, and tried to see if there was another way around it; but we were in the middle of a bridge over a small-but-swollen river, and there wasn't another crossing for miles. While I could probably swim it, or go around the truck on foot, I didn't want to leave Fenrir. He was too faithful a companion._

_It was as I was wondering what to do that the man came out of the truck and approached me. I almost didn't see the cloth in his hand until it was too late, but I glared at him when I did notice it, and the smell that was coming off of it. I carefully backed Fenrir up, deciding that I would rather find another crossing point than get drugged._

"_Cloud Strife, correct?" I narrowed my eyes at the sopping-wet man. Who was he? And why did he know my name? Why did he want to drug me? After all, that was chloroform I was smelling, if memory served me right._

"_Who's asking?" I asked brusquely. I was in no mood to deal with people trying to fuck up my life even more than it already had been._

_The man chuckled. It was... sinister, I decided. Yes, decidedly sinister._

"_Doctor Hojo says hi," he said, tossing something at me. I caught it without flinching. Then he dove at me._

_I was quick to kick him away, absently pocketing the object. I barely heard his body land hard on the pavement over the sound of the rain and my own pounding heart._

_Hojo? Alive? How?_

_These questions and more ran sporadically through my head as I tried to fight down the sheer terror that gripped my heart at that simple, short sentence. Before I could drive away, I heard the man start speaking again._

"_We'll find you, Strife," he said with another dark chuckle. "And if we don't find you, Doctor Hojo's sure that your little Mako-enhanced girlfriend will make a fine specimen for his experiments..."_

_I didn't hear any more, already driving away, more anxious than eager to get home._

_I only stopped once, to look at the thing that the thug had thrown at me. My blood froze in my veins when I saw what it was._

_Zack's ID tag, almost eight years old, back from the Nibelheim mission during which we had nearly been killed by Sephiroth. Old bloodstains still discolored the paper beneath the plastic._

_Swallowing back bile, I pocketed it again and continued driving._

_The man's words echoed in my head the whole drive home, which took a full hour longer than it should have. By the time I finally parked Fenrir in the garage of the Seventh Heaven, my stomach was churning, my face was hot, I had a chill, and my eyes were stinging from my wild flight home. My breath came short as I stealthily entered the bar._

Which brings me to the current moment.

Right now, I'm standing here with First Tsurugi in my left hand, my right hand on the knob of the door separating the garage from the bar. I'm pretty sure I've gotten sick from being exposed to the elements for so long, but I have other, more important things on my mind. Things like making sure that Tifa and Marlene and Denzel are here, and safe, and that Hojo's men haven't gotten to them.

I shiver as I close the door behind me, my eyes darting around the silent area. I still don't want to believe that what the man on the bridge said is true. After all, we- AVALANCHE- killed Hojo three years ago. I saw him die with my own two eyes, and even though the memories are kind of hazy at times, I distinctly remember that event, and the hint of relief that it brought to see my former tormentor die.

Still, I check the kitchen, behind the bar, and underneath all the tables before tiptoeing up the stairs.

The board of the landing creaks faintly when I set my foot down on it. I hold back a cringe, pressing my back against the wall, trying to ignore the way my heart is trying to leap out of my throat. I take a deep breath and peer around the corner.

_This isn't right,_ I think as I scan the dark hallway. _I shouldn't have to creep around my own home like some common thief._

But creep I do.

It disconcerts me that Hojo's name still frightens me so much. After all, it's not like he can really do anything to me.

Then I remember what else the man said.

"_If we don't find you, Doctor Hojo's sure that your little Mako-enhanced girlfriend will make a fine specimen for his experiments..."_

I shudder again, and then make my way up to the upper hallway after making sure the coast is clear.

The first place I head to is the bathroom. I finish clearing that in less than a minute, since there's nothing in there save for a sink, toilet, and bathtub/shower. I also waste no time in checking through my room, taking less than five minutes due to the fact that it's so spartan and clean- Tifa's doing, no doubt. I latch my window before leaving.

I check on Denzel and Marlene next. They're asleep in their beds, Marlene curled around a teddy bear and Denzel sprawled across his pillow, one hand flopped carelessly across his mouth. I silently enter and make a quick circuit of the room. Thank God that their closet door doesn't make any sound as I check inside it. I briefly glance under the beds, finding only dust bunnies, before I make sure that their window is securely locked. I check behind the door one last time. Then I leave the room, close it behind me, and tiptoe up to Tifa's room.

I'm expecting her to be asleep, too, considering the hour- it's well past three and moving on towards four- but she's still up when I gently widen the crack between the door and its frame to peer inside. She looks blearily up at me from her book where she's sitting in her bed, reading. Relief spreads across her weary features. The next thing I know, she's hugging me tightly around the middle.

"Cloud!" she whispers into my ear. "Welcome home!"

I close my eyes, dropping my guard for an instant to brush a kiss on her cheek. Then reality hits me and I stiffen up again, gently pushing her away and scanning the room urgently.

"Cloud? Cloud, what's wrong?" The confusion in her voice nearly stops me, but I only spare her a glance before double-checking that the window is bolted. Not that any normal human could climb into her window on a regular day, let alone a night when nature finally decided to take a massive-ass dump on this section of the world. But Hojo isn't a normal human, and neither are most of the people he works with...

"Cloud!"

I'm finally satisfied when I find nothing under her bed or in her closet, and turn to her, sheathing First Tsurugi in the harness on my back. I can see the confusion in her wine-red eyes, and my Mako-enhanced hearing can hear her heart fluttering in her chest. It's a wonder that I'm able to hear anything over the sound of my throbbing heartbeat and the harsh breathing that is rattling out of my lungs past the lump of panic in my throat. My knees almost give out as I realize that there's nothing in the house; nothing except me, Tifa, and the kids.

"Cloud, what's going on?" Tifa's voice startles me into motion, and I realize that I've been standing there, staring around her room, for the better part of three minutes.

I shake my head wearily, still trembling faintly. Distractedly, I head toward the hallway. I'm determined to give the downstairs one last look-over before I take a hot shower and start packing.

Her hand on my arm stops me. I turn to meet her gaze in the dim lamplight, and she stares back at me for a long moment before reaching up with one hand to brush a drop of water off of my forehead. It's only then that I realize that I've tracked water through the whole building, and that if Hojo doesn't get me, then Tifa will. She _hates_ it when people mess up her territory.

"Cloud, you're warm," she states. I blink. Warm? Oh. Must be feverish.

I grunt, closing my eyes and leaning into the gentle touch. Then I sigh, knowing that I have to tell her where I'm going.

"Tifa," I murmur. She hums, running her fingers through my hair. Ooh, God, that feels so _good._ Harder, please... No... A little more to the right... Ah, there's the spot.

When she giggles, I wonder absently if I've started purring. Seriously, I'm beginning to feel like a cat. Or maybe a dog that's getting scratched behind the ears.

She's going to _hate_ me for this.

I reach up and gently take her hand in my own, pull it down to hold it against my chest, just above my more recent Masamune scar. You know, the one through my right shoulder. Yeah. That one.

"Teef," I begin again, planting my hands on her shoulders. This time, she listens raptly, and I see her eyes flicker down towards my mouth. "Teef, listen to me. Stop staring at my mouth and listen."

Her gaze snaps up to meet mine again, embarrassed and curious.

"Teef, I have to go away for a while," I tell her quietly. Her eyes widen, and then narrow. She opens her mouth to scold me, but I silence her by slanting my lips over hers.

Tifa tastes sweet. Like mint and vanilla and chocolate all rolled into one. I always liked that combination.

When I pull away again, we're both breathless.

"I can't explain right now, Teef," I whisper quickly. Oh, God, Hojo's men could be coming here right now, and I know that we can fight them, but not while they have drugs and the kids are in danger. The situation makes my heart jump into my throat all over again.

"I just have to go," I conclude. "I swear I'll be back as soon as I can, and I'll try to call you as much as possible. But right now, I want you to promise me something, okay?"

She nods mutely, stunned by the kiss and by what I'm saying. I must sound more scared than I thought I did.

"I need you to keep the kids close to you until I get back," I tell her urgently. "Call in Yuffie and Barret and Vincent. Maybe Cid, too, and Nanaki if he can spare the time. Have one of them with you in the bar at all times. They can sleep in my room if they want, but I want you to have one of them stay with you, okay?"

She nods again, looking shocked by the request.

"Cloud-!"

"Promise me, Tifa!" She gasps when my grip on her shoulders tightens briefly.

"I promise. Cloud-!"

I cut her off again, shaking my head sharply.

"I already told you, I'll explain later," I say. I keep my voice pitched low so that I don't wake up Marlene and Denzel. "Right now, I have to go. All I can say is that if I stay, you're in danger, all of you."

I take a deep breath, kiss her briefly one last time, and then I leave the room, heading back down to my own bedroom. I begin throwing clothes into a bag, a couple of my old uniforms from my AVALANCHE days as well as some casual clothes that will allow me to blend in with crowds more easily. I pull out the dark rain slicker that Tifa got for me for my birthday. I slip it on; it fits perfectly over my shoulder armor and my sword harness, allowing for easy concealment. When it's all settled, it reaches down to my ankles.

That done, I head to the bathroom for some basic necessities: soap, razor, towel. All of them get thrown into my bag. Then I'm ready.

When I make it down to the bar again, Tifa is waiting for me. She's standing over by the entrance to the garage, and she's biting her lip, looking worried. I pause in front of her.

"Tifa," I murmur, my panic being pushed to the back of my mind for a long moment while I stare into her eyes. Those eyes... I say this at risk of sounding like a lovesick puppy, but... I could drown in them...

She doesn't say anything, just reaches up and kisses me. It's sweet like before, but I can taste salt, as well, and I know that she's been crying. My bag slips through suddenly nerveless fingers to land with a thump on the floor as I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly to me. I jerk slightly in surprise when she wraps her arms around my neck, her tongue smoothing along my lower lip.

I open my mouth, deepening the kiss.

I know that I should be leaving, but my hands don't want to release her body. I know, in the back of my mind, that what we're doing is probably wrong, or should at least be saved for the time after marriage. But my mind is going fuzzy, drunk off of the scent, the taste, the feel of Tifa, and I can't bring myself to leave just yet.

In no time, we're leaning against the bar, Tifa sitting lightly on the edge with me pressed up against her between her legs. I can't think straight, just fumble with her pajamas even as she tries to disrobe me, though my drenched state makes things difficult.

I'm wearing a plain t-shirt today under my jacket and harness, and a pair of blue jeans. They come off quickly, and I make short work of her flannel pants and tank top.

It seems like hours pass between the time that we begin making love to the few minutes after when we lay on the floor of the bar, simply catching our breath, exchanging small, loving kisses every so often. In reality, it's been about thirty minutes, forty-five since I got home.

When I at last crash down from my high, exhausted and still shaking, reality crashes down with me, and I bury my face in Tifa's sweat-slick neck, softly kissing her skin, tasting the salt that coats it.

"I love you, Tifa," I whisper. She sighs beneath me, and I realize that she's fallen asleep. I briefly close my eyes, enjoying the warmth that she radiates. Then I lever myself up off of her and quickly don my wet clothes again.

I still have to leave, after all.

But I won't leave Tifa lying there on the floor. It would be undignified, insensitive, degrading, and callous to do so. I love Tifa. So I pick her up, retrieve her clothes, and carry her upstairs to her bedroom before gently tucking her in beneath her scarlet chocobo-down comforter. I feather one last, tender kiss across her brow, gaze upon her for a long moment- _how familiar is this scene?-_ and then I head over to her desk, write a short letter on a sheet of her stationery. Finally, I fold up the paper and place it on her pillow. I know that she'll find it when she wakes up in the morning.

As an afterthought, I also leave her my earring, which is in the shape of a legendary beast, the Griever. I slip her own matching ring off of her finger and tuck it into my pocket, my hand brushing against a different object in passing. It's Zack's ID tag that the thug threw at me earlier, but my mind is elsewhere, and I let the thought go for the moment.

It's only reluctantly that I leave her, gazing at her as long as possible as I slip out the door. My heart feels like it's tearing in two, and my stomach is churning as I head down the stairs. Three steps from the bottom, my vision suddenly swims, and I stumble, tripping, to land painfully on the floor.

My head hurts, now, too.

I know now, beyond a doubt, that I'm sick, exhausted, and currently dehydrated. It's a struggle to pull myself to my feet, but I manage, and I grab a few bottles of water from the refrigerator, stuffing all but one into my bag. I chug it before tossing the bottle into the sink. I strap my armor and harness back on, slip into my rain slicker. Quickly, as another afterthought, I clean up the small mess Tifa and I left on the floor from our lovemaking. Lastly, I grab a bottle of some generic ibuprofen, pocket it, and pick up my pack. Then I head out through the garage, locking the door behind me.

Fenrir's quiet engine seems unusually loud in the enclosed space, and I briefly wonder if I shouldn't just stay here, recover a bit before leaving. Then I shake my pounding head, knowing that I have to get going. I've wasted enough time as it is, though I spent it so well that I can't ever regret it. Hojo's flunkies could be after me right now.

As I maneuver slowly out of the garage and close the door behind me, I muse faintly on why it is that I have absolutely no doubt that Hojo _is _back and after me. After all, he's the only one who could possibly know about what was done to Tifa. And she only told me her account of it recently.

Not to mention the ID tag.

I walk Fenrir a few blocks away before I climb on and peel away, the tires squealing as they try to get a good grip without hydroplaning. Then I'm gone.

The rain almost feels good as it lashes against my hot face- the sharp pain it causes wakes me up slightly, clears a little of the fog from my mind. The wind whips my hair back into a sopping mess that drips down the too-warm skin of my neck. It makes me shiver. I'm too busy putting as much distance as possible between myself and the Seventh Heaven to stop, though, so I ignore it. I have to make sure that Hojo's flunkies can't get Tifa and Denzel and Marlene. Then I'll stop.

The sky is getting a little bit lighter when I finally pull Fenrir to a halt after a good fifteen minutes and about thirty miles. I'm parked near a rocky overhang outside of Midgar. It's that overhang that I slip under while I fumble with numb fingers to fish my cell phone out of its waterproof case at my hip.

The number I want is one that I have to look up off of my contacts list, since I haven't memorized it just yet. It's fairly recent. But its owner is a notorious insomniac, so I don't think he'll have any problem with me calling him at- I quickly check the time- five-twenty-six in the morning.

The phone rings once. Twice.

"_Hello?"_

The voice is unpracticed, but I know it very well, especially since the Deepground incident.

"Vincent?" My voice wavers slightly, and I briefly hold it away from me as a cough wracks my body. I'm slightly hoarse when I next speak. "Vincent, where are you?"

He's silent for a second. I wait impatiently.

"_I'm closing in on Edge,"_ he replies. _"Thought I'd drop in and see how Tifa and the kids are doing. Yuffie's coming, too."_

It's the most I've heard him speak at one time since we met at the Forgotten Capitol during the Advent Crisis.

I close my eyes wearily for a short second as I give a mental sigh of relief.

"Thank God," I murmur, unable to hold it in. I'm shivering again, but I don't know why, since my body's almost numb. I clear my throat. "Vincent, I need you guys to stay with them. Don't let any of them out of your sight. Understand? They _can't_ be left alone."

There's another silence on the other end. I can hear soft breathing, and a feminine mumble reaches my ear after a second.

"Vincent?"

"_I'm here,"_ he says. _"We'll stay with them."_

Thank God.

"Thanks, Vince," I sigh. "Listen, I gotta go. Time's running short right now, but I'll call the bar later, when I can. If I don't call in six hours, you can trace the cell phone's locator chip to hopefully find out where I am."

There's another second of silence.

"_Don't keep her waiting, Cloud,"_ he deadpans cryptically. I blink, and then hold the phone away from my ear as the line goes dead. I shiver, and slip it into my boot with a shaky sigh. My body's starting to feel heavy, _too_ heavy. I have to get going. If I don't, then I'll probably get hypothermia on top of being sick.

On a second thought, I reach down and pull my phone out again. I pry open the back- I've studied these things before, briefly- and remove the primary locator chip from the phone. It's self-powered, in case the phone battery runs out, and about as small as a pinhead. A backup locator chip is still inside, isolated in case of system failure. Ah, the wonders of ShinRa technology.

Yeah, right.

The phone gets reassembled and put back into its waterproof pouch.

Pulling out a small knife from my pocket, I grit my teeth and make a small incision on my forearm. I push the locator chip inside, making sure to avoid any major blood vessels. The pain is alarmingly sharp, but it wakes me up, some. I heal the wound with a Cure spell a second later. The knife goes back into my left pocket. Allowing the rain to wash the blood from my skin, I briefly ponder the fact that my blood consists more of glowing white-green than it does crimson.

Slightly fitting, perhaps.

The pain, and the adrenaline rush it brought, fades quickly, and I turn to go.

But as I stumble back towards Fenrir, my ears pick up the sound of rocks shifting. I am too exhausted and slow to react. An instant later, I'm on the ground, my face pressed into the mud, barely struggling as a needle is pushed into my neck.

The world grows dark.

* * *

"So, are you awake, now?"

The voice aggravates the headache that I'm already suffering from. I try to move my hands and feet, only to find that I'm restrained. I groan, my heart falling down to sit, leaden, in the pit of my stomach.

I crack my eyes open, then quickly close them again when I'm confronted with a bright light.

My head's swimming.

My gut churns violently, and I barely manage to turn my head to the side before I retch painfully. I can almost make out the sound of disgust from the person standing next to the table, but I'm preoccupied with vomiting. The person snorts again with revulsion.

Go to hell, you prick.

Finally, I settle to lay there, gasping, my cheek resting in a puddle of puke and my eyes and nose streaming from the abuse. Something cold, wet, and impersonal lifts my head and wipes my face off. I can smell some strong cleaning agents in the surrounding area, but there is nothing on the cloth save for normal water.

My mouth tastes like puke, now. Gross.

"Are you quite finished?"

The voice sends a shiver down my spine, but I keep my mouth shut.

I hope I puke again, just to spite you. If I'm lucky, maybe it'll get all over you, you dirty rat-bastard. Unfortunately, I have to opt not to voice this out loud. My throat hurts too much.

"All the better." I finally manage to open my eyes. My head swims again, but it's not as bad as before, and I can see the shifting form of the twisted man who tortured me for five years.

Hojo.

I spit his name like a curse, glaring for all I'm worth, which isn't much at the moment. I'd be surprised if he flinched at all given my current state.

I'm right, it seems. He throws his head back and cackles. When he looks back down at me, I can see a touch of madness in his cold gaze, and he grins at me maniacally. He nods to somebody I can't see. Somebody strips my t-shirt off of me a second later, a stinging pain down my chest alerting me to the fact that a razor-sharp scalpel has been used for the job. I swallow. There's no doubt in my mind as to what they have planned for me. This is only confirmed when I see Hojo hold up a ruby-red Materia.

The glow of the overhead lights glints off of the marble-sized orb in an almost-menacing manner. I can't prevent myself from thinking that it looks like crystalized blood. A shiver runs down my spine again. I'm reminded that I'm sick and tired and _too fucking weak to do anything about this._

This... is _not_ good. Not good at all.

Hojo is speaking. I can't tune out his words, much though I want to.

"Specimen 1-C is showing signs of illness and stress," he is observing. "Possible hypothermia. Aide, inject Specimen 1-C with 10 CCs of blood-thinning agent. We don't want him clotting up on us."

My innards flip as I realize what's going to happen.

"No," I groan weakly. I hate the frail quality to my voice and my protests even as I toss my head from side to side. Somebody is holding down my shoulder, injecting something into my body. I start shaking a few seconds later.

Then something blots out the light overhead. I see a flash of metal, the glint of blood-red Summon Materia. I feel sick again as a cold point is laid upon the skin of my chest, right above my breastbone.

Once he starts cutting, it only takes a few seconds of screaming before I pass out.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII, Advent Children, Dirge of Cerberus, or Crisis Core, or anything affiliated with them._

_This is a rewrite of two old stories of mine that I posted way back in 2005 under the penname **GundamWingFanatic90**. If you want to read those, they're called **Angel** (Cloud's story) and **Toki No Hourousha **(Tifa's tale). Needless to say, this one's more than a bit more mature than the originals._

_I'm combining the two stories into this one and adding some more events. Cloud's torture will be explained more in-depth, and the whole story is written from his point of view. Also, this is not a songfic, if you couldn't tell. Except for reminiscences (flashbacks, too), the story is written in present-tense. It takes place post-DOC. It will also have elements of Final Fantasy VIII in it, if you look for them._

_If anybody's wondering why Cloud and Tifa had sex when he was sick... Well, I guess it's because they love each other, Tifa could tell that Cloud was scared about something, and she wanted him, and he wanted her. When two people want each other that much, it's really hard for them to walk away after they start kissing, especially if there's a potentially life-threatening situation on hand, whether implied or real. Erm... I hope that makes sense. That scene was hard for me to write, I confess._

_Ahem._

_Hope you like it. Please leave me some feedback so I can improve my writing style._

_Next chapter will be posted 11-20-09._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	2. Hope

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 2: Hope._**

* * *

_"If you are going through hell... keep going."  
--Winston Churchill_

* * *

My mind is swimming when I come to again. I crack open my eyes to find that I'm floating.

There is a liquid, white-green glow surrounding me.

I feel a brief flash of panic; then the calm of resignation sets in. I can sense that something about my physiology has changed. Something is sitting in my mind, a dark and disoriented presence. It doesn't feel like Jenova, but I don't like it.

All I can glimpse before fading away again is a long, raw incision on my chest where I was split from breastbone to navel.

Then blackness.

* * *

The time passes in a hazy blur of Mako illness and dizzying pain. I don't know how long I've been here. Time seems to just drag on and on, and there's no way for me to measure it. I just retreat into myself whenever I can, detaching from my body to hide in the safety of my mind where I can't feel the tests, the needles, the burning, sickening sensation of liquid Mako sliding across and into my skin.

I wonder blurrily if it's been long enough that the others are searching for me. I wonder if they'll manage to lock onto my position before the chip in my arm shorts out, if it hasn't already. Electronics don't tend to stand up to pure Mako very well, and God knows I've got enough of the shit pumped into me that I'll probably bleed it.

There are voices in my head, too.

And not nice voices, like Aerith and Zack. No, these voices just make my head hurt with their chatter. An image floats before my eyes, too, of a strange scene, whether from the past or the future I don't know. There are a total of six young men and women standing across the room from me, all armed and ready for battle.

A man steps forward; he seems to be the leader of the large group. He has brown hair, a few shades darker than Denzel's, and piercing grey-blue eyes. He has a scar between his eyes, running diagonally over the bridge of his nose toward his left cheek. His features are blank, displaying no emotion, but his eyes are expressive though he seems to try to hide it. They show his curiosity and detached horror.

I feel myself weakly reach out to them.

My fingertips touch the glass. The tubes in my arms and mouth and nose shift uncomfortably, but the way that the pain is dulled tells me that either I've lost most of the sensation in my body, or I've had them in there for so long that I've grown accustomed to it.

The people are looking concerned, maybe a little scared. A single thought floats through the fog of my mind.

They don't belong here.

"Go back," I try to rasp out. It comes out garbled. Bubbles of air escape and float toward the surface of the Mako tank. Those eyes stare at me inquisitively, solemn.

"Get out of here," I whisper. I don't have much strength left. "Before Hojo comes."

My arm loses what little energy I've been able to give it, and my fingers slide smoothly down the glass to rest back at my side.

He says something, but I almost can't make it out through the liquid in my ears. One of the others heads for the control panels off to the side. There's a moment during which I think that they might be able to get me out. But it's a feeble hope.

I'm too sick to really be able to hope for release.

The last thing I register before blacking out once more is that the Mako is draining.

* * *

I wake up again to find that it was all just a dream. I'm still submerged in Mako, still have the tubes in me, still am suffering from the burning pain of the liquid Lifestream. Something is different, though. My insides are spasming. I feel like I'm going to throw up, and my head is pounding. I close my eyes.

I guess it was too much to hope for.

_'Who are you?'_

The voice startles me, and my eyes flutter open weakly. There is nobody in the lab.

I don't know who I am. There're so many voices... Wait. Who are you? Why are you in my mind?

_'I am Griever.'_

My heart skips a beat even while I wonder why that name is significant.

_'I am what you know as a Summon.'_

Ah. That explains it. Does this have anything to do with Hojo's experiments? Probably.

I sigh mentally, and let my aching body go limp. It's definitely not the most comfortable thing in the world- since when is Mako ever comfortable?- but it at least eases the pressure off of my sore legs. Legs. Is that what those things below me are called? They look too shrivelled to be of any use.

_'You are very ill, human,'_ Griever states. I sigh out loud this time. A stream of bubbles floats up toward the top of the tank. I know I'm sick. _'Your body is rejecting the experiments. You will not last long unless you get out and get help.'_

I know. But I don't think I can remember anyone at all, much less anyone who would help me.

Again, my mind drifts to a vague recollection of sensations. I wonder faintly if these are memories.

The sensations seem very pleasant, I think, with a burn entirely different from that which I'm used to. I remember a flash of brown, and a glimpse of wine-red eyes floats to the front of my mind. There's a ring, too. It has the shape of Griever's face etched onto it.

Who is that?

Then it hits me. Tifa. That's Tifa.

More memories of Tifa flood back to me, memories of our childhood, of our time spent traveling the globe, of the years after. I remember the Advent Crisis, the DeepGround incident, and the last time I saw her, sleeping peacefully in her bed after we made love for the first time. I close my eyes. A name slips from her lips in one memory.

"_Cloud..."_

Is that my name?

_'It seems fitting.'_ Griever's voice startles me again, and my eyes flutter open once more before I realize who spoke and close them again.

Maybe.

_'I believe Bahamut spoke rather highly of you. Yes, Cloud Strife does ring a bell. He said you had hair like a chocobo's backside.'_

I can remember that much about my appearance, at least. I send a spike of dry irritation towards Griever as he snickers in my head. He may eventually get to be annoying, but at least I'm not alone, anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, this hell will be a little easier to bear.

* * *

Today's a bad day. I've been coughing up blood for much of the time that I've been awake. Hojo's in the lab, bustling about, complaining about failed experiments and damning several names to the deepest pits of hell. There's a strange, muffled crashing coming from somewhere in this place, which I assume is part of a building.

I don't know what it is, though, and I'm too sore and tired and sick to really care. My mind goes blank for a long moment. I close my eyes. The world fades away.

When I open them again, what I can see stirs a very, very faint twinge of alarm and hope in me. The lab around the tank is all but ruined, and Hojo is cackling on the floor, bleeding from a hole between his eyes. Probably the only reason he's still alive is because of his inhuman physiology. There's a group of people gathered in the room. Some of them are at the control panel, fiddling with buttons. A red blaze engulfs Hojo's body. In a matter of minutes, all that is left of him is dead ash, still hot from the flames that killed him.

I would hope he won't come back again, but I'm too numb to really think of anything, let alone feel emotions. It's just too much to ask for right now.

_'They're here to rescue you.'_

Griever is a familiar, anchoring presence by now, lending me sanity in this hell. I'm so far gone, though, that I barely register his words. Instead, I stare blankly out at the people around the tank. There's a familiar face outside the glass, but I can't remember their name at the moment. All I know is that it's a woman, and that she's got dark hair and wine-red eyes.

Heat blossoms in my chest. Something chokes me.

I cough blood into my clear plastic breathing tube.

The mechanical respirator that's keeping me alive, however, pushes the blood right back down my throat and into my lungs, again. It's a terrible, uncomfortable, endless cycle. Despite the efforts of the machine to get oxygen into my body, the liquid in my lungs is hindering the process. Mako is beginning to leak into my mouth around the smooth tube; it hasn't been changed out in a long time. It's starting to get corroded from the Mako. I'm slowly drowning in my own bodily fluids and the burning Mako.

I choke again.

Then a sound fills my ears. It's a strange sound, and I feel movement in the Mako around me. It's... It's going down!

My little spark of hope flares faintly. Are they getting me out of here?

I strain to look down at my legs and beyond, but my vision is blurry. I can only barely make out that the floor of the tank seems darker than before.

Yes! Yes, they're getting me out! The Mako is draining through the grate in the floor, swooshing, being sucked out. Suddenly, my head clears the surface of the white-green liquid, and air- Air! What a novelty- hits my face for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. I try to gasp in a breath of the fresh oxygen, but I'm hindered by the tube that's down my throat and in my nose. A sudden burst of panic strikes me. It fuels me with adrenaline. My usually unresponsive arms- Arms? Is that what those are called?- fly up seemingly of their own will as the Mako sinks past my shoulders. My shaking fingers scrabble weakly for purchase on the clear plastic tubing. I finally get a good grip on the tube in my mouth, and I begin to pull it out.

Holy-mother-fucking-shit-that-hurts!

The blinding agony returns, and I gag as the tube slides out of my throat, but there's nothing in my stomach to bring up, so I manage to get it out without incident just as the Mako sinks past my cloth-wrapped, shorts-clad hips. Gasping with the effort, I continue with the tubes in my nose.

_YOU'VE-GOTTA-BE-SHITTING-ME-HOW-CAN-THIS-FUCKING-GET-ANY-MORE-PAINFUL-YOU-GODDAMN-MOTHER-FUCKING-SON-OF-A-DOGGY-STYLE-BITCH?!_

Needless to say, this hurts even more than the one in my throat did.

As the ends of the nose tubes scrape the back of my throat, I gag again, and double over, retching, getting a face-full of Mako. It burns my skin and mouth and eyes and nose, chokes me, and another flash of panic allows me to straighten up and take a deep, grateful breath of the air above me. Then my legs give out beneath me as my feet begin to tingle with pins and needles, slipping on the wet floor, and my knees turn to jelly. I can't hold myself up, slumping against the glass as my body heaves and coughs. I feel liquid gush out my mouth past my teeth. A blurry glance to the floor in front of me shows me that I've expelled blood and Mako.

Huh. What do you know? My blood _hasn't_ been entirely replaced, yet.

Exhaustion strikes me. Who would have known that so little movement as it took to remove the tubes from my mouth and nose would have drained me so much? But it has. I simply lie there on the bottom of the tank, breathing, marvelling at the fact that I can actually taste the air, even though it's bitter with the tang of cleaning agents and the acrid leftovers of smoke.

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I blink sluggishly, but I can't see much. Is my vision growing dimmer? It's certainly swimming plenty. I strain to look at the source of the motion, but they're out of my line of sight, and everything's too blurry to make out details, anyway.

My head pounds dully. Nausea clenches my stomach. I slump further, weakly attempting to curl protectively in on myself, but I don't even have the strength to do that. Residual drops of Mako cling to my skin, warm compared to the air. I wonder if I'll ever be able to feel anything again after this. That is, if I actually manage to survive for long outside the Mako.

Griever is there, in the back of my mind, and even though I can't make out his words, the tone of his voice reassures me. I think he's telling me everything'll be alright.

For some reason, I believe him.

Huh? My eyes are closed. I don't even remember closing them. I blink them open sluggishly as a dull pressure registers against my cheek. There's a dark blur above me, obscuring the overhead lights. The figure leans closer. I can make out black and red, lots of red, red like the blood that I can taste in my mouth. There's another pressure against my chest, but I feel the icy coldness there better than I can feel the touch.

Then... I'm moving? How am I moving? I'm not moving my arms or legs- no strength to do that, I feel like I'm made out of lead- but the lights are moving around the silhouette. Are they carrying me?

There's muffled sound around me.

"Cloud?"

That's the only word I recognize, my name. But who said it? I shiver in the cold air, and lean into the warmth that's being radiated from the person who's carrying me. So warm. But are they safe? Am _I_ safe? Where are they taking me? Wait! Are they going to cut me open again? Please no! Oh, God, please, _please,_ don't let them cut me open again! I can't take it!

My breathing grows short as irrational panic grips me in an iron vise.

I try to push myself away from the warmth, but I can't budge. Somebody calls my name again, but I ignore them. I can't let them cut me open again!

Adrenaline bursts through my veins, lending me strength. I push off of the warmth as hard as I can, and then I feel myself falling. I land with a loud 'crack' on my left arm. Dull pain shoots up from my forearm, but I push it away- it's nowhere near as bad as the Mako or the cutting was. I cradle it against my chest, scrambling away from the silhouettes. I don't register that I'm backing myself into a corner until I feel the hard surface of the walls press against my skin. My breathing comes faster, and my eyes fly from silhouette to silhouette as panic engulfs me fully and completely.

Oh, God, they're going to cut me open again! No!

The voices around me are loud, too loud. I can tell that they're Angry, and Angry is never good. Angry means that I'm going to get cut up, or that somebody's going to hit me, or that they're going to pump me full of more Mako. Angry isn't good. Angry means pain. Angry is bad. Very, very bad.

Cloud doesn't like Angry.

Griever is murmuring something soothing in the back of my mind, but I'm too far gone to register what he's saying, and the Anger around me is too overwhelming. I think I'm hyperventilating, but I'm not entirely sure. What _is_ this 'hyperventilating', anyway? Is that why my blood is rushing and I'm breathing so fast?

My gaze flashes past the silhouettes toward a bright light at the other side of the room. Is that freedom? Is that the place where I can get away from the needles and the cutting and the people who want to hurt me? It probably is.

A drop of Mako slides down the skin of my forehead, leaving a trail of fire that leads to my left eye. I don't even flinch at the invading liquid. My breathing quickens further, my heart pounds in my chest so loudly that I'm sure that they can hear it. My gaze darts around, looking for an opening in the wall of silhouettes so that I can get to that light at the other side of the room.

There!

Keeping my arm close to my chest, I make a break for it, managing to dash between two of the shorter silhouettes. I'm halfway across the room when something black and red bars my way, and I can't stop my momentum in time. I hit the thing, and my right shoulder blazes with pain before numbing. I rebound off of it, snarling, and attempt to dart around it. But something catches me around the chest, pushing me back. I lash out with my right arm, fingers crooked into talons, attempting to put some distance between it and me.

It catches my wrist and throws me to the ground.

I skid backwards, managing to keep my feet under me, and make another break for the light. But the other silhouettes have barred my way. The light has disappeared. The door is closed.

My heart sinks as I stumble to a halt. I'll never be able to get the door open- I don't know how!- and with all of these Angry people here, I don't think I'll get the chance to escape again.

I growl and back away from them, ready to defend myself with my right arm. Despair fills me. I hit the wall again with a quiet whimper, and crumple as my strength deserts me again. I shake in the wake of my adrenaline rush, and I can do little more than snarl at the shadows, my eyes darting every which way as I seek an escape route.

One of the silhouettes approaches me. I shrink back with a quiet growl, which turns into a hacking cough. My tongue tastes blood and Mako as liquid spills over my chin. I bare my teeth as the convulsions subside, pressing my back harder into the corner.

It's cold.

There's a voice, now, and it's not Griever. I blink at the shadow, realizing that the sound is coming from it. The tone is soothing, even though I can't understand its words. It reaches out toward me.

I growl again, trying to make myself as small as possible, tensing. If they hit me, if they try to cut me open again, I'll try to stop them. I don't think I'll be able to, though. Not enough strength.

The appendage withdraws.

That sound is back again. I hear my name. It's a soothing sound, this time. My growl loses some of its ferocity as exhausted curiosity begins to overtake me. The blur in front of me resolves itself into a slightly more recognizable shape.

Dark brown hair. Wine-red eyes.

A dim memory tugs at the back of my mind. At first, I ignore it, thinking that it's only Griever talking again, but then I realize that he's silent, only his awareness to signify his presence. Hesitantly, I allow the memory to come forth.

Brown hair, brown eyes, a windy trail over a mountain, and then a long fall and blood everywhere, blood, blood, _blood._ Then there're angry words, and a long period of anxiety. When those eyes open again, they have a red hue to them. The memory fades.

I blink again at the shadow in front of me.

It's a woman. I can remember that much, now. But _who_ is she?

"Cloud?"

She knows my name. Can she be trusted? Hojo and his assistants always called me "Subject 1-C", or just "1-C" for short. If she knows my name, does that mean that she's a friend? At any rate, she doesn't seem Angry. She's talking in a soothing tone of voice. Slowly, my breathing calms to a managable speed, my heart rate slows down so that I don't think it's going to jump out of my chest.

She's close enough to touch, now.

I growl faintly, shrinking again, warning her away even though I'm fairly certain it's a vain effort. I know that I won't be able to do anything if she tries to move me. At this point, I'm not sure I want to. She's pretty, and she seems nice.

Then again, the last time I thought that somebody was going to help me escape, it turned out to be a dream.

Griever says something, but again, I can't make out the words.

"Cloud."

My eyes flick toward the woman. My arm is starting to throb, and my whole body is beginning to shake harder than before. I wonder if it's an aftereffect of the Mako treatments. Have I become addicted to Mako? That doesn't make sense to my hazy mind.

"Cloud."

Her voice is getting farther away. I can't even growl, this time, when she reaches out and touches my cheek with her fingertips. I briefly wonder if the Mako that's still on my skin hurts her like it does me.

Before I know it, everything seems detached, and I know that I've retreated into my mind again, leaving my body vulnerable to whatever they want to do with it. I can still see out of my tired, blurry eyes, but everything else is indistinct. I watch as blood and Mako sprays out of my mouth again. I guess I'm coughing. I'm not entirely sure, though. It might be some kind of animalistic hiss that I'm making, or it might be that I tried to spit at her. I'm really not sure.

I don't think that I'm hissing or spitting, though. I would've told my body to do that if that were the case.

She doesn't even flinch when the mixture lands on her arm. But she does turn around. She seems to be calling something. I can't tell what.

When another shadow- a male- joins her, I manage a growl again. Her voice calms me, though, and I grudgingly allow myself to be picked up again, and my shoulder hurts as my right arm is stretched across his shoulders. I'm tense as the man-of-red-and-black all but carries me toward the other shadows. Then the door slides open again, revealing light beyond.

I reattach my mind to my body.

My head lifts as I stare at the light. Something is thrown over my shoulders, making me jump. I whip around- definitely not as fast as I'd like to be- to stare at the short woman- girl?- who is now standing next to me and man-of-red-and-black. She has coal-black hair and eyes of the almost the same color. Her gaze is sad and angry at the same time.

Sad? I realize that I'm beginning to recognize emotions. Have I ever been able to recognize emotions? But for some reason, I can read her face like an open book.

Wait. What's a book?

But there's still something on my shoulders. I turn my head to gaze blankly at the stuff dangling from them. I realize that it's cloth of some kind. A blanket?

Hold the phone. What's a blanket?

My energy levels are falling again. My body wants to give out on me, to sleep. But I can't sleep, yet, not when freedom is so near.

We move through the door.

The light blinds me at first, and I clench my eyes shut with a hiss of pain, trying to block it out because it hurts so much. Then I manage to slowly blink my eyes open again, and as my sight adjusts, I get my first glimpse of paradise. Of freedom.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII, Advent Children, Dirge of Cerberus, or Crisis Core, or anything affiliated with them._

_This is a rewrite of two old stories of mine that I posted way back in 2005 under the penname **GundamWingFanatic90**. If you want to read those, they're called **Angel** (Cloud's story) and **Toki No Hourousha **(Tifa's tale). Needless to say, this one's more than a bit more mature than the originals._

_The last scene was meant to be jumbled and incoherent, in order to reflect Cloud's broken mental state of the time. It's meant to sound disjointed-but-fluid, as well as slightly animalistic. Here, he's running on adrenaline, fear, and basic instincts. I hope that the prose called to mind some of these qualities. He does refer to himself in the third-person once, too, which was done to imply a childish sort of sentiment._

_Anyway._

_So now Cloud's out of the fire. It'll take a while for him to fully recover mentally from this trauma, though physically, he won't have much trouble. But then again, who knows what the hell Hojo did to him? Hmmm..._

_Kudos to anybody who can name the non-FFVII references in this chapter._

_Thank you to everybody who reviewed the first chapter! These awesome people include: **Calenlass Greenleaf1**, **Misakiii-Chocolate-Chan**, and **Yuuki**. You guys are all awesome! I hope that this chapter satisfied your curiosity and need for more reading material. ^.~_

_Next chapter will be posted 11-25-09._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	3. Sunrise

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 3: Sunrise.  
_**

* * *

_"This life ain't the fairy tale/ We both thought it would be/ But I can see your smiling face/ As it's staring back at me/ ...I__t don't matter where I lay my head tonight/ Your arms feel like home."  
--3 Doors Down, "Your Arms Feel Like Home"_

* * *

My mind is clearer, much clearer, when next I awake. I can tell that I'm lying on something, but it's a lot softer than the cold lab tables that Hojo would lay me on when he performed his experiments and tests on me. It cradles me in a warm embrace even while it supports me. There's a blanket lying across my body, too, and what feels like a compress on my forehead.

I crack my eyes open.

The light hurts, so I immediately squeeze them shut, again. Then my curiosity gets the better of me, and I open them again. This time, the light doesn't hurt as much, so I keep my eyes open, allowing them to adjust. Gradually, the light separates itself into shadows, and then shapes, and then defines itself into recognizable objects.

I'm in a bedroom.

My surroundings are familiar. There's a desk over against the wall, with a phone and some framed pictures on top of it, as well as some maps and a neatly organized stack of paper. In the corner is a large sword that I recognize as my First Tsurugi.

I'm in my own room at the bar, in my own bed, with a compress on my head and my thoughts clearer than they've been in what seems like years.

Movement to my left attracts my attention. I turn my gaze over to land on the source of the disturbance.

I see a woman slumped over the side of the bed, one hand clutching a compress, the other pillowing her head. She has dark brown hair, nearly black, and is wearing a familiar outfit.

Tifa.

I wonder if this is all a dream. After all, there was more than one time during my captivity that I thought that an illusion was actually reality. Usually, that happened when Hojo or his assistant took me out of the tank to exercise my body. Such things only occurred about twice a week, and though the Mako slowed the process, my muscles atrophied more than a little.

The pain from my muscular deterioration was what had made those instances real even while the hazy, indistinct quality that the Mako had given my thoughts made it all seem like a dream. Being on Mako is like being high, or drunk. Only you don't get the pleasant, buzzed sensations that are usually associated with alcohol or drugs; with Mako, you only get pain and fatigue and illness and fucked-up memories.

But that's beside the point.

My point is, I'm wondering if this isn't a dream. Then I manage to will one hand- too-fucking-weak-this-isn't-_me-_to struggle out from under my quilt and slide across the blanket to clumsily brush against Tifa's cheek.

She's warm, and solid, and entirely _real_.

She stirs at the touch, and then she's opening her eyes, and _God, she's beautiful._

"Cloud?"

That simple, sleepy word, packed with so much meaning, brings tears to my eyes. A second passes during which we stare at each other, almost in disbelief. Then she grins broadly, her gaze overly bright, and slips her arms around my neck to hug me. Lost in her embrace, I'm almost able to forget about my torture, convince myself that it was all just a bad dream, but it's not to be. I shakily lift my free arm- my left arm- to run my fingers through her hair. It's then that I realize that my forearm is splinted, probably broken or fractured. Maybe that's why I've been having so much trouble moving it.

My eyes glue themselves to the sight of the splint in mute horror.

The realization that the hell I went through was real jars me. I feel my breath hitch once, twice, and then Tifa's sitting next to me, with me curled into her, my face buried in her stomach, crying.

It's been years- _years!_- since I cried, probably since before my mom died, but everything that's happened lately has pushed me past the limits of my emotional endurance. My worry for Tifa and the kids, my subsequent flight and illness, the capture, the torture, the Mako treatments, the discovery of my merge with Griever, my near-death experience, the escape attempt, turning on my friends like an animal, and now the relief- the sheer, crushing _relief- _of being _home_ and _safe_ and_ whole _and _loved_ is more than I can take.

Tifa holds me through it all, softly humming a lullaby while she rubs my back and runs her fingers through my hair in an oddly comforting motion. My gratitude to her makes me cry more.

God help me, I'm beginning to sound like a moody woman.

Not that that's a bad thing, really, because Tifa's the strongest woman I know and she cries and everything, but I'm _not_ a woman and I _don't _cry and I'm _supposed to be stronger than this but I'm not right now _and _even I have to cry sometimes but I still hate it._

Sorry if that confuses you. It makes sense to me, in a hazy, sort of indistinct manner.

Ahem. Yeah.

When I finally calm down, a long time seems to have passed, and I simply lay there in Tifa's lap for a while, holding her close, savoring her warmth even as I feel drained beyond preconception. Her solid presence is an anchor to my floundering emotional state. She just keeps humming and rubbing my back and doing that really nice thing where she runs her fingers through my hair. It's really, really soothing.

I'm too drained to really move. It's funny, how much energy crying takes. Huh. Seems like I've been doing this a lot, lately. Feeling drained, that is.

Yeah. Life's tough.

You know, come to think of it, I wonder what's going to happen next. Will I have to go through therapy? Probably not. Will I be angry at the world for a while? Maybe. Will I stay with Tifa and Marlene and Denzel? Definitely.

If anything, this ordeal has retaught me something that I learned a long time ago, and that's that no matter what evils happen to you, you can always find a way out, or somebody else will find a way out for you.

At least, that's what I'd like to be able to say. But it's not what I'm really thinking. What I'm really thinking is that it's really, _really _good to be back with Tifa again, even though it's been hell to get to this point and I know that I _will_ need a lot of help, both with getting back into shape and with coping with the emotional and mental stress. I briefly wonder how to tell them all about Griever; then I decide that it can wait until later.

Right now, all I really want to do is hold Tifa. Then I'll talk when I'm in a better state of mind.

Tifa shifts, and I realize that I'm laying on her folded legs, and that it's probably very uncomfortable for her. I sigh once, very quietly. Then I scoot away from her, staring up at her. She smiles down at me, her gaze soft and sad. Then she stretches her legs out along the length of the bed, and pulls me close again. She's in profile to me, so I can see almost everything that's changed about her in the time I was gone.

It's then that I notice the faint bulge to her stomach.

I blink in surprise, hesitantly reaching out with my good arm and brushing my fingertips against her belly. How long was I gone, anyway? Is she pregnant?

Her hand envelops mine, pressing it more firmly against her belly through the fabric of her clothes. It's firm. Warm. And I can feel a faint pulsing. I guess that it's a heartbeat.

I swallow, and look up at her curiously. Is it mine?

She nods with a gentle smile.

"Yes," she whispers. "It's yours."

I gaze at her in numb silence for a long moment. Then I turn my gaze back to her belly, my sensitive fingers easily feeling the heartbeat of our baby. Our baby.

Great God almighty, that's going to take some getting used to.

But for the moment, I'm just glad that I know about it, and that I can feel the heartbeat even though I can still feel the Mako humming in my veins and the dull ache and the shakes of withdrawal syndrome are starting to hit me.

Really, who would've thought that Mako was habit-forming?

...Okay, that was a bit of non-funny gallows humor there. Seriously. Don't laugh.

Taking a tremulous breath, I curl up at Tifa's side, leaving my good hand on her belly and cradling my bad arm to my chest. I press my nose into the side of her thigh. She still smells as good as I remember.

A contented sigh escapes my lips.

Soon, I feel myself drifting off, again. My eyelids droop as she continues to run her hand through my hair, the rhythmic motions still soothing. Before long, my body relaxes completely, and my eyes close, my breathing evens out.

The last thing I hear before sleep takes me is Tifa telling me that she loves me.

* * *

Three days later, I still can't seem to talk.

It seems to be bothering Tifa, but somehow I'm not surprised. Neither is Vincent, who's been staying at the bar since they rescued me. Apparently he's seen several cases of post-traumatic stress disorder. I'm guessing that that's what I've got.

Like I said, I'm not surprised.

Right now, Tifa's standing in front of me while I shakily lift myself to my feet. I wobble dangerously at first, gritting my teeth in determination and frustration, and then I steady myself and take a deep breath.

"You can do it, Cloud," Tifa says from where she's standing. I glance at her, seeing her hold out her hands in mute encouragement. Then I swallow and nod, steeling myself before I take that first wobbly step. I haven't used my legs in a while. The last time I really moved was the day they got me out of the tank, and those memories are pretty hazy. Griever tells me that I was reduced to an adrenaline-fueled, animalistic state of mind, and that the most recent time I was out of the tank before that was about four days before they rescued me.

Hojo didn't like having me out of the tank, I gather.

All in all, I've learned that I was gone for almost four months before they managed to track me down. Apparently, Hojo and his cronies kept their bases mobile, or at least so well-concealed that my friends couldn't find me easily after the chip in my arm shorted out.

It still amazes me that I was gone for four months. It feels like much longer, and yet a lot shorter, than that. But I guess that time is relative, isn't it? Or, at least, its perception is.

As I take another step and link my hands with Tifa's, I can feel my strength beginning to return. I'm more steady on my feet, and my legs don't hurt as much as they did at first. My hands are still shaking from the Mako withdrawal, but I've gotten a little used to it. After all, what else is there to do? It's not like I can shoot up with Mako every few hours.

The thought itself makes me shudder slightly.

"Cloud?" Tifa noticed me shiver, apparantly. "What is it?"

I look into her eyes, and then shake my head, only belatedly feeling amused because of my thoughts. I take my good hand out of hers, and shake it emphatically, emulating and exaggerating the tremors that have been going through my limbs since I woke up three days ago. She nods understandingly- Tifa's just great like that- and then we walk out into the hallway and to the stairs. By the time we get to the top landing, I'm fairly confident in my walking skills and my balance, even if my legs are getting a little tired, but that's understandable.

The trip down the stairs is halting, and I have to grip the banister tightly to ensure that I don't fall. I can still remember the last time I took a spill down these steps, and it's definitely something I don't want to repeat.

But there's a fire waiting in the fireplace downstairs, and Tifa's promised me some hot chocolate if I can make it down to the lounge.

Believe me, if you've ever tasted Tifa's hot chocolate, you'll know why I'm so eager to get to the couch.

No, really, it's to die for.

My heart leaps in victory when my feet touch the bar's wooden floor, and I do a mental jig as a ditty plays in my mind. Da-da-da-daaa duuh-duuh dah-da-dah! Take that, you stupid staircase! Yeah, I _so _just _owned_ you!

Yeah, I'm just that awesome.

And Zack's rolling in his freaking grave right now. I just know it.

_'No, he and Aerith are just laughing at your childish triumph,'_ Griever inserts into my head. I frown briefly.

Who asked you?

He just snickers in response.

"Cloud? Are you okay?" I blink, realizing that I've been scowling at nothing, and shake my head. I look at Tifa and give her a reassuring smile. She chuckles, shakes her head with good-natured exasperation. Then she points me in the direction of the couch situated in front of the fireplace, and goes to make some hot chocolate. After all, it's nearing three-thirty in the afternoon. Marlene and Denzel should probably be getting home from school with Barret, soon, and- this shocked me when I first found out- the snow is laying pretty thick on the ground outside right now.

This makes me wonder for a moment.

What day is it? What month? What year, for that matter? Has New Years' already passed? Or is it still December? Is Christmas coming up? I don't know, and it bothers me. Marlene's birthday is in January, Denzel's is in February, as is Aerith's, and Zack's is in early March. I have things I need to do, to prepare, for those days. If I don't have the time...

Somebody might be disappointed if I don't have anything to give them.

My thoughts are interrupted as Tifa reenters the room with a tray full of mugs of hot chocolate, and my ears pick up the sound of childish voices and footsteps outside. I can also hear Barret's rumbling voice, and all of their laughter. I glance absently at the front door.

"Cloud?" I'm frowning again. I look at Tifa, and then point to my ear and the door. She blinks, looks over at the door, and then walks over to it after setting the tray down on the coffee table. I take a deep breath and snuggle down into the leather sofa.

Yes, I just used the word 'snuggle'. So sue me, I'm comfy.

No, that's _my _certificate of masculinity. You can't have it. Go away.

"Oh, it's Barret and the kids." Tifa's voice brings me out of my inner monologue. I cast my gaze over to her to find her looking at me studiously.

"Cloud, how can you hear them?" she asks. I blink. "They're still down at the other end of the street."

I blink again.

I honestly don't know. Then again, I _was_ just held for four months for the sole purpose of experimentation. Who knows what weird shit they did to my body? I figure supernatural hearing is probably the least of my worries.

So I shrug. Then I make a vague gesture from my ear to my eye and then shrug again. I don't know how to say it, since my voice isn't working.

Damn, this nonverbal stuff isn't as easy as it used to be.

Tifa just gives me a vaguely amused look. A moment later, she opens the door for Barret and the kids.

It only takes Marlene and Denzel a matter of seconds to realize that I'm in the room- they're well attuned to my presence, and used to my silences- and a second later, I've been tackled off the couch by a pair of laughing, snow-dusted, coat-bundled children. My head bangs painfully against the edge of the coffee table as I go down, but I barely feel it as Denzel and Marlene attempt to squeeze the breath out of me. Barret's hollering something in the background. I just wince as my arm is jostled and make an attempt to hug them.

I haven't seen them since I woke up. Tifa wouldn't let them in to see me, since I was recovering and all- I guess it also had something to do with the state I was in when they rescued me. Still, it's a real relief to realize that they haven't been harmed in any way.

A few seconds pass before Tifa pulls them off of me, stopping their excited chattering and endless questions with a familiar look. Then she tells them to go take off their wet clothes and coats. Before they head into the kitchen to do so, Denzel looks back at me where I'm pulling myself back upright with a little help from my good friend, the couch.

"Cloud?" I look over at him questioningly. Denzel smiles, and it lights up his whole face. "I'm glad you're okay."

I don't have the heart to tell him that no, I'm not okay.

I just nod, giving him a small smile, and watch as he disappears into the kitchen after Marlene. Taking a shaky breath and wincing as my arm throbs, I perch on the edge of the couch, giving Tifa a small, pained smile when she looks at me with concern. Then Barret is there, clapping me on the shoulder roughly with his metal arm. I grimace as the force he uses nearly sends me toppling forward into the coffee table, but I manage to stay upright, instead glaring up at him from under my bangs.

"Good to see ye're up, Spike," Barret rumbles. I roll my eyes, rubbing my arm. "Hey, wha's wrong? Your arm hurtin' ya or somethin'?"

I give him a Look. Yes, a Look. With capitals and everything. Seriously, judging by the expression of surprise on Tifa's face, I think I just did a fairly impressive impression of my mother.

Even Barret looks surprised. That is, if by 'surprised', you take his expression as being torn between hilarity and solemnity. But hey, I'm just glad he isn't slapping me on the back. Seriously, that _hurt._

Barret turns to Tifa curiously.

"Hey, Teef," he begins. I know what's coming. "Why isn' he talkin'?"

Tifa smiles a little. "Vincent says it's called combat stress reaction."

I give her the Look, this time. She notices it, and a smile twitches her lips. I notice a pen and a pad of paper on the bar, and, inspired, I shoot up off of the couch, walking unsteadily over to swipe it off of the wooden surface in question. I scrawl hastily over it, and then hobble over to present it triumphantly to Barret.

_Tifa got it wrong. It's really called "post-traumatic stress disorder"._

Barret blinks.

"Wha's that s'posed ta mean?" he asks. I sigh silently, perching on the edge of the couch again, and grab the paper from his hand.

_I can't talk,_I write simply, and then thrust the paper back into his hand before reaching for a mug of hot cocoa. Tifa slaps my hand away. I stare at her, wounded, but I'm mollified when she hands me my favorite mug, the hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. I give her a slight grin.

I almost purr when I take the first sip of the delectable drink. Ah, heaven! I ignore Griever's chuckling in the back of my mind, as well as the stares I'm getting from Barret and the newly-returned children, and happily sip away at my drink, pulling my legs up onto the couch to cross them beneath me. Sighing with contentment, I look up when a small hand touches my cheek.

It's Marlene.

"Cloud?" she asks. I blink at her questioningly. She prods my cheek below my eye, pure, innocent curiosity in her gaze. "What's that scar from?"

My good mood evaporates with a speed that scares me.

I lower the cup away from my mouth and curl defensively around it as I cradle it in my hands just above my lap. I don't hear the questions that are fired at me, my mind unwillingly traveling back to the day that I got the scar that Marlene just asked about.

_Hojo's in a bad mood today I wonder what he's going to do it really can't be much worse than cutting me open seriously I can't think of anything worse oh no no nonononono not the eyes not the eyes NOT THE EYES OH GOD IT HURTS AND I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING I THINK I'M DYING OH GOD OH GOD **OHGOD-**_

When a cool hand touches my arm, I jump so violently that I spill hot cocoa all over myself, but I don't notice it or the pain it brings, defensively scooting back against the back of the couch as I try to make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible. My hands are shaking badly enough that the remaining cocoa is threatening to spill over the sides of the mug and scald me further. I take deep, tremulous breaths as I try to fight off the panic that's threatening to engulf me.

It takes me a good deal of mental coaching to make myself calm down even slightly.

Come on, Cloud. You're strong. You beat Sephiroth **twice.**You can beat this. Hojo can't hurt you anymore, he's dead. Tifa's going to be worried.

It's that last thought that finally allows me to get myself back under control again, and I come back to myself to find Tifa with her back to me, holding a very worried pair of children back as Barret stares down at me warily from my left. I absently notice that he has one hand on his fake arm, doubtlessly ready to defend himself and the others if I try to attack. Swallowing hard, I shakily set the mug back down on the tray and get up, forcing myself to move faster than my body wants to go as I make a beeline for the stairs.

I need some space.

Halfway up the stairs, I stumble and catch myself with the railing, thankfully managing to save myself from a painful tumble. Heading into the bathroom, I turn the water on cold, letting it run into the sink before I shove my smarting hands underneath the icy jet, my chest heaving as I try to control my panicked breathing. I try to keep my mind blank, to not focus on thoughts of my imprisonment, but it's difficult. After all, I'm a brooding man by nature, and torture such as that which I went through isn't easy to get past by any means.

I don't know how long I stand there, letting the cold water soothe my stinging skin, but when I finally realize that my hands are numb, they're already pale and icy. Wincing, I take them out from under the stream and shut the water off to dry them gingerly on a towel. It's then that I notice that I've got hot chocolate splashed all down my front, staining my favorite ratty t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. Scowling briefly, I sigh silently and close the door before stripping them off my body and tossing them in the corner. There's a towel under the sink- Tifa likes to keep them there in case somebody gets sick and she doesn't have time to grab one from the closet. I withdraw it and reach into the shower to run the water into icy coldness.

Before long, I slip under the frigid stream, shuddering convulsively as it cascades down my back. I get used to it quickly, though. After all, I _did _grow up in Nibelheim, and winter there is a lot colder than this water is. I distinctly recall running through the snow barefoot in shorts and a t-shirt more than once. But that's beside the point.

At the very least, the water has shocked me out of my dazed state. Sighing, I press my hands against the tiled shower wall, letting the liquid run over my body as I shiver reflexively. It's not long until I grab some soap and wash myself off, making sure to get all of the hot cocoa off of me.

When I finally finish my wash and exit the shower, my mind has been cleared of most of the memories of the past four months. Still, after drying off and wrapping the towel around my waist, I lean heavily on the sink, my eyes tracing the various new scars that adorn my body. Not the least of these is the raised red one tracing down the center line of my torso where Hojo repeatedly cut me open in order to weigh my organs throughout various stages of the "treatment". The second most prominent is the scar underneath my left eye, where Hojo decided that he was going to remove my eyeball- without any anesthetic- and study it to research what properties the Mako had on my sight.

Needless to say, it's not my fondest memory.

Swallowing, I shake myself out of my stupor, chuck my dirty pajamas into the hamper, and crack the door open just enough to see whether or not the coast is clear. There's nobody in the hallway, so I quickly dart out and across the space into my room. I close the door with a silent sigh of relief, thinking that I'm alone.

It's then that I notice that Tifa's sitting on my bed, studying me wordlessly.

We stare at each other for a long time. I know that Tifa's already seen me in much less than this, but I can't help the embarrassment that colors my cheeks. I'm the first to look away, heading to my closet for a shirt and pair of pants. I try to ignore the fact that I have an audience as I dress. It's as I pull my shirt over my head that a warm pair of arms slips around my waist, hands splaying across my belly on top of the massive scar that stretches from below my navel to halfway up my chest. I go still, allowing her to trace the scar even as the cotton t-shirt slips from my fingers to pool on top of her arms.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly. I don't answer, for the reasons that I neither want to or am able to. But Tifa feels the faint trembling in my fingertips nonetheless, and I know that she can feel the way my back is tense. She runs her hand up and down my flat stomach in a comforting motion. Then she gently turns me around and pushes me back to lean against the door. I look down at her as she looks earnestly up into my eyes.

"Cloud," she murmurs. I swallow. She lifts my t-shirt up and traces the long scar with her eyes as well as her touch. Then I swallow again, my breathing quickening, as she leans down and kisses it gently, tenderly. When she straightens, I look at her questioningly.

"I love you, Cloud," she tells me. I can see nothing but sincerity, love, and adoration in her gaze. "Every part of you is precious to me. Nothing can make you ugly or repulsive to me."

She places a hand over my heart, gazing at it for a second before she looks back up into my eyes.

"You're beautiful, Cloud, because your spirit is so beautiful, so kind," she whispers. I'm frozen for a long second, touched to the core by her words. Then tears gather in my eyes, though I don't let them fall. I reach up to cover her hand with my own as I smile in gratitude. She grins, leans up, and kisses the scar on my cheek. Then she pulls back, grin widening, and kisses my lips.

I'd forgotten how good she tastes.

We stay like that for a moment, simply exchanging a chaste kiss. Then we part when Tifa giggles, her hand going to her belly.

"I think she's doing somersaults," she observes. "I can feel her moving."

I press my hand to her belly, trying to feel what she's feeling. But I can't, even though my sense of touch has been enhanced to an impossible degree. My disappointment must show on my face, because Tifa laughs and caresses my cheek tenderly.

"Don't worry, you'll be able to feel it soon enough," she says. "I've heard that they usually start kicking around the sixth month or so."

I blink at her for a second, and then look down at her belly again.

Insecurity fills me even as it finally hits home that I'm gonna be a _dad_. _Me_, a _dad._Isn't that hard to believe? I mean, I didn't have a father growing up. Most of the male influence in my life came after I joined the Shinra army when I was fifteen, and not all of that was good. I mean, yeah, I had Zack after a while, but he was more of a friend than a father, what with our ages being so close, and I was never particularly fond of any of my instructors. Except for a few SOLDIER First Classes who were willing to help me out, I never really had a father-figure. And one of those Firsts was a girl, so that's not saying much.

Regardless, I'm a little nervous.

...Okay, that's a huge understatement. I'm terrified, frankly. I don't want to fail Tifa or the baby in any way, and the pressure is almost overwhelming. What if I do something wrong? What if I can't protect the baby? What if something happens to them? To me? What if I can't be there for them while they're growing up? What if, what if, what if...?

The 'what if's continue to swirl around my mind until I'm almost dizzy with them. Then I realize that I haven't taken a breath for about three minutes. That's probably why I'm dizzy.

I blink and breathe again.

Tifa's burgundy eyes are twinkling at me as though she knows what I'm thinking. She probably does, too.

"Everything will be okay," she tells me. She sounds so certain, like it's just a simple fact of life, that I can't help but believe her.

I smile, open my mouth to thank her. All that comes out is a pathetic rasp of air, and reality comes crashing back down on me again. I frown. Then I shake my head, lean down, and capture her lips with mine.

She's breathless when I pull away again.

I smirk slightly at her, triumphant, and nod at her with confidence that I don't really feel when she meets my gaze again, telling her that I'm okay, that everything _will_ be okay. Because it will. Whether or not I'll be ready for it is another question, but for once in my life, I'm just going to take things as they come, to hell with worrying about the past. From now on, I'm going to try my best to focus on the future.

...Yeah, we'll see how long _that_ lasts.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII or any affiliated spin-offs. This is done for fun, and is, unfortunately, non-profit._

_Yay. Nekkid Cloud. *wolf-whistles* Not much else to say for this chapter._

_Thank you to everybody who reviewed the last chapter! These people are: **Misakii-Chocolate-Chan **and **Calenlass Greenleaf1**. You guys are awesome! And to Cal: I'm so glad that I've got Cloud's character down. We have at least a few chapters to go, so I hope that I manage to keep things consistent. ^^_

_Next chapter will be posted 11-30-09._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	4. Welcome

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 4: Welcome._**

* * *

_"Hush, now, my baby, be still, love, don't cry..."  
--The Prince of Egypt, 'River Lullaby'_

* * *

Another four months pass.

I still can't speak, but I've been trying as hard as I can. About a week after I was brought home, Tifa dragged me and the kids to a deaf school, and we began learning sign language. I was already slightly proficient at it, having learned a lot during my days in Shinra's infantry, but I was amazed at how much more there was to learn.

It took a few weeks, but now all four of us can converse fairly fluently in hand signs.

Cid and Yuffie convinced me to teach them some of the cruder ones. Don't ask how, they just did. They've gotten pretty fond of making insinuations about me and Tifa. Behind her back, of course. They're smart enough to know that she'd probably maim them after she has the baby.

Speaking of Tifa, she's a little over eight months along, now. Don't tell her I said it, but she looks like she's about to pop. She's really uncomfortable, too. Her feet ache a lot from the extra weight that she's put on, and she waddles when she walks, and she doesn't like the fact that she can't practice her karate, anymore. I've taken over a lot of the work at the bar in the evenings. Tifa's usually confined to the register, especially since her OB/GYN said that she shouldn't be on her feet for more than a half-hour or so at a time. Something about stress and labor.

Everybody's been by to visit at least once, to check up on how we're doing. And every time they come, Tifa tells them the same thing: We've been coping.

I still haven't been able to tell them about Griever or the voices. I can't even talk to them about the nightmares I still suffer through. Because that's what it is: suffering. Every time I close my eyes, I feel the scalpels cutting into me, feel the weakness caused by the drugs they kept me on, feel the burning sickness of the Mako sliding across and into my skin.

The only good thing is that I've learned how to hide my hands' shaking.

I can remember very little about the time after Zack and I escaped from Hojo's lab in Nibelheim almost four years ago, but I do remember him saying that I was addicted to Mako. I guess that it passed eventually for me to be alive today, but still...

The thought of Zack makes me clench my fists on top of the bar counter, wiping it down with a little more vigor as I try to push the melancholy from my mind.

Right now, the bar's closed for the day for routine cleaning and repairs. I'm scrubbing down the bar while Tifa sits at the register, tightening a loose bolt on the side of the drawer. Yuffie and Vincent are in the seating area and the kitchen, respectively, doing some cleaning. Tifa won't let Yuffie near the kitchen for fear that she'll break something. So, naturally, Vincent was the much wiser choice. Yuffie was miffed, at first, but she got over it soon enough. Marlene and Denzel are helping her- I think they've actually made it into a competition to see who can scrub the most tables in the least amount of time. Or something like that.

I'm just finishing up at the bar when a knock comes at the front door.

Blinking, I check the clock. It's three in the afternoon. Even if we were open today, we wouldn't be opening for another five hours. I exchange a glance with Tifa as Yuffie goes to answer the door and to tell the person that we aren't open.

I shake my head as I hear Yuffie's voice telling the visitor the information I just mentioned. Then I frown as a familiar mezzo-soprano voice enters my ears.

"Is this where Cloud Strife lives?"

I blink. The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Where have I heard that voice before?

Yuffie hasn't answered, yet, but she turns to me, wary curiosity in her eyes and voice.

"Oi, Cloud, visitor for you," she calls. When I frown at her and hold up my hands to show that I'm busy, she purses her lips. "I think you'd better come see her."

I roll my eyes, rinse my hands off, dry them hastily, and then snag a pen and a notepad before rounding the bar and heading to the door with an apologetic glance toward Tifa. She smiles knowingly at me, flashing the back of her left hand at me to show that she knows I'll be okay. The ring on her left finger glints at me reassuringly as a sign of her trust.

Yeah. I proposed to her.

It was the month before last. I'd had the ring for a little while, but was trying to figure out how I should ask her. We were sitting on the couch that night, and Tifa was six months along. Marlene and Denzel were playing a board game with Barret, Yuffie, and a very confused Red XIII, who had been visiting at the time. Vincent had been reading quietly on the other end of the couch, and I'd been curled up with Tifa against the arm of it. She had been chatting comfortably with the kids and Nanaki, trying to explain the rules of the game with little success, since Yuffie and Barret kept adding their input every three words or so.

Tifa had been in the middle of a sentence when she suddenly stopped with a gasp, her eyes going wide and her hand going to her belly. Alarmed, I'd sat up a little more to wrap my arms around her middle and look at her questioningly over her shoulder. It had been then that she beamed and told us that the baby had kicked.

I'd been speechless as she took my hands and splayed them on her belly just in time for me to feel the next forceful kick. I'd jumped at the same time as she did, and then the kids (Yuffie included) had crowded in for a feel, with Tifa laughing and Barret teasing me about the look of surprise on my face. I hadn't noticed any of it, though, completely entranced with the woman in my arms.

I still don't know what gave me the guts to propose to her at that moment. But I did. Of course, I couldn't ask her the words out loud, so after everybody had backed off to continue cooing about the baby, I'd taken Tifa's hand in my own and started writing letters on her palm.

She'd mouthed the letters silently to herself, and when I'd finally finished the sentence, she had taken a moment to piece the words together. Then her eyes had widened almost comically, and she had turned to me, questions in her eyes. I'd smiled at her, perfectly content and feeling like I was probably glowing with both love and slight sheepishness, but completely unrepentant for asking. Then she'd laughed and cried at the same time, thrown her arms around my neck, and kissed me soundly right in front of all of our friends.

Of course, Yuffie had a fit when she couldn't figure out what we were so happy about, since she hadn't been able to see what words I was forming on Tifa's palm, but needless to say, she'd gone totally off the deep end when Tifa explained what had just occurred.

Let's just say that it involved lots of squealing, some waterworks, some scolding (toward me, of course), and more squealing.

No. It wasn't pretty.

Coming out of my reverie, I smile at Tifa one more time and head for the door. A nod to Yuffie, and she goes back to task while I turn to greet the newcomer with a nod.

It's a woman, probably about five-foot-five and a half, with short black hair and tan skin. She's smiling at me, but what catches my attention are her glowing Mako eyes that are slitted like a cat's.

Sephiroth's eyes.

My heart jumps into my throat, and my whole body tenses as I prepare for a fight. But she just chuckles.

"Don't worry, I'm not here for a fight or anything," she says. Then she holds out her hand. "Cloud Strife. It's been a while."

I eye her warily. She raises an eyebrow.

"My name's Terra Jerrel," she tells me. The name sounds slightly familiar. "I was a SOLDIER First Class back before Shinra went down. I used to train with your unit during the Materia drills."

Now I remember.

She was one of the best Materia users I'd ever seen before I met Sephiroth. If I also recall correctly, she was involved with Angeal Hewley, one of the Firsts who went rogue after Genesis Rhapsodos defected. After all, if somebody was declared KIA in Shinra's ranks (like Genesis and Angeal were), it more often than not meant that they'd defected or gone MIA. I know that Zack, Sephiroth, and I were all declared dead after the Nibelheim mission, and we all know how true that was.

I shake her hand with a nod of acknowledgment.

Then I jot down a note on my notepad and offer it to her to read. She just smiles.

"I can read lips just as easily as I can read that pad of paper, Cloud," she says amiably. I'm surprised for a second before I realize that she was probably trained in it as she ascended the ranks and began to take on more missions that required stealth to succeed.

I swallow, feeling like a fool. Then I open my mouth.

'What can I do for you?' I mouth. I frown in consternation while she smiles.

"I was wondering if you were still making deliveries," she says. It's only then that I notice the infinite sadness in her gaze. "I have one that I need help making, this year. It needs two people to do, and my sister can't help me because she's going to be indisposed. My son is too young to understand the significance of it, either. I was hoping that you might be able to help."

My frown deepens in confusion.

'What's the delivery, that you can't get somebody else to help you with it?' I ask. The fact that there isn't any sound coming from my mouth is disconcerting, but I push it away. She hands me a piece of paper with hand-marked words on one side. It's folded in half so that I can't read what she's written.

"Please, don't ask questions right now," she says quietly, and my eyes snap back up to meet her gaze when I hear the heart-rending grief in her voice that she carefully tries to mask. I see her swallow.

"Just go to this place on May fifteenth," she tells me. "I know that it's quite a bit of advanced notice, seeing as that's more than two months away, but I figure that that'll give you plenty of time. And could you please bring eight lilies with you?" She pauses, watching as I jot down notes on my notepad. "Also, you may want to bring the rest of AVALANCHE with you. There are things you all should hear."

I frown, finish writing my last sentence, and look up to ask her what she meant by that. But Terra is already gone, nothing but a white feather lying where she was standing not even thirty seconds ago. Startled, I lean out of the door and glance up and down the street before scanning the sky. I can just barely make out a dark figure flying away from the bar.

One white wing is holding it aloft.

Feeling numb and more than a little unsettled, I lean down and pick up the feather before dazedly making my way back inside. Tifa's got a weird look on her face as I reenter the common room, and the smile she flashes me is a little strained.

"Who was it?" she asks. I shrug, and lift my hands to sign a reply to her.

'An old comrade from SOLDIER,' I tell her. 'I haven't seen her since before the Nibelheim mission.'

Tifa nods, but a second later, she gasps and nearly falls off of her stool. Panic spears through me, and I'm across the room and at her side in record time and without any knowledge of how I got there.

'Are you okay?' I sign hurriedly. She takes a few deep breaths, and then shakes her head.

"I think my water just broke," she whispers to me under her breath. I swear my heart stops beating for a half a second. Then I glance around at the rest of them, seeing their concerned looks, and nod reassuringly at them.

'She'll be fine,' I tell them. 'I'm taking her to the hospital.'

I turn and help Tifa up, missing the excited glances that they exchange. All my attention is on my fiancé as I all but carry her into the garage and let her climb onto Fenrir while I open the door leading to the outside. I've forgotten about the feather in my hand until now- I absently pocket it as I hurry back over to Fenrir and climb on. Tifa wraps her arms around my middle with some difficulty. Vincent comes out as I'm about to start the engine.

"We'll come by later with a bag of her clothes and some supplies," he tells me. I nod, and a second later, we're speeding out of the garage.

The ride to the hospital is a little hair-raising for me, since I'm trying to avoid as many potholes as possible. She only has one contraction from the time we leave to the time we arrive outside Edge General, but her arms tighten around my gut so hard that I think one of my ribs cracks. Then I'm parked and carrying her inside, and she's whispering in my ear that she's scared, and I think she knows that I'm scared, too, and _I think I'm not quite ready to be a dad, yet_ and _Oh my God, I can't believe it's time already_.

A nurse takes us up to the maternity ward.

The last I see of Tifa for a while is her getting taken in for birthing preparation.

* * *

It's been a while since they let me into the birthing room, and the doctor's telling Tifa that she can see the baby's head and that Tifa needs to push. I'm shaking just as much as Tifa is, now- _Oh my God, how can one woman hold so much blood?!- _but she's gripping my hand really hard, and it's grounding me in reality even though my fingers are purple. I think I may have passed out briefly at some point because there's a gap in my memories and I can tell that Tifa's laughing at me even though she's swearing from the stress of the birth at the same time and threatening to inflict various measures of bodily harm on me.

It would be amusing if she wasn't actually following through on some of those. For instance, the way I think she's already broken my hand...

It kinda hurts, you know?

And Griever's laughing uproariously at me in the back of my mind. He finds this all insanely hilarious, though I can't see why.

Tifa's pushing, again.

I put my free arm around her shoulders to lend her what strength and support I can. I'm almost afraid that if she squeezes my hand any harder I'll be spurting blood all over the hospital room. She switches her grip to my wrist. I hear something crack, and grit my teeth as a small whimper manages to escape my mouth. That fucking _hurts!_

I tug gently on my wounded arm, trying ineffectively to pry it away from her grip. After all, it just finished healing after that whole ordeal with Hojo, and as it is, it'll probably be another week before I can use it again. Just judging by the way I can't feel my fingers, that is, and from the color. It's a nasty purple-black-blue-green combination.

Yeah. It's gross. Don't ever try it.

Ouch! Damn motherfuc-

OH-GODDAMNIT-WHY'D-YOU-HAVE-TO-SQUEEZE-SO-BLOODY-FUCKING-HARD?!?!

OW! **OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW!**

Oh! Pain!

Is my hand on fire?! OW! Pain. TOLERANCE_. _**LEVELS**. _**OVERLOADED!**_

...I think I just passed out again...

* * *

When I next awake, Tifa's almost done. She's at least let my arm go in favor of holding our baby. Through a haze of pain, I can tell that the kid has thick, dark brown hair, almost black. Just like Tifa's.

I hear the doctor tell us that the baby's a girl.

I can't tell what color eyes she has, yet. Most babies have blue eyes until they hit about six months or so, anyway. She has Tifa's face, as well as the shape of her mouth. Her eyes and nose are shaped like mine, though, and the pout on her features is the same that I occasionally see in the mirror whenever I'm feeling particularly upset about something.

She even scrunches her forehead the same way I do when I think. Don't know why, though. She'd do better to take after Tifa. I think too much.

Tifa's talking to me, but I can't really make out the words. My ears are ringing, and most of my consciousness is centered around the burning throbbing that's shooting through my left arm from where she just broke my hand and wrist. I'm feeling a little sick, now.

It's then that my mind finally does the math. My thought process goes something like this: Tifa's not in pain. Tifa's holding baby. Tifa's not holding hand anymore. Tifa's not holding hand anymore means I can move my hand. Now, how do I move my hand? Oh, right. Pull gently up _over _Tifa's shoulder, around Tifa's back, cradle it against chest. There. Hand out of danger.

It's worse than I thought it was.

My hand is misshapen, the bones are definitely broken, and the whole thing is almost black from the bruising. It'll start swelling, soon. My wrist is little better. It's pretty dark, too, and there's a lump on one side of it where one of the bones has been displaced.

I poke it gingerly.

_**HOLY MOTHER OF GOD THAT HURTS!**_

Taking measured breaths, I wave to the nurse. When she looks at me inquisitively, I hold up my injured hand in an unspoken plea for aid. Her eyes widen in surprise, and then she nods and discreetly calls a doctor in. The doctor in question takes one look at my arm before blanching and pulling me over to the other side of the room, where a scanner is sitting on a table.

He scans my hand and wrist, then gives me something and tells me to bite down on it.

I don't question him.

_**OH-MY-FUCKING-GOD-THAT-HURT-YOU-GODDAMNED-MOTHER-ASS-FUCKING-RAT-BASTARD-SON-OF-A-DOGGY-STYLE-BITCH-YOUR-MOTHER-WAS-A-WHORE-AND-YOUR-FATHER-WAS-A-SHIT-EATING-CHOCOBO! GET-THE-FUCKING-HELL-AWAY-FROM-ME!**_

These and more profanities fly through my head as he resets the bones in my arm. My good hand clenches on the edge of the metal table beside which I'm sitting- there's a loud screech of tearing steel. I've unconsciously crumpled the edge of the table in on itself.

By the time the doctor finishes resetting my hand and wrist, I'm gasping for air around the pain. He splints and wraps my arm and hand until I can get to the ER and get it put into a cast. As it is, I reach for the link with the mastered Restore Materia in my pocket, and go to cast Cure on my hand. For some reason, the spell is amplified to the level of a Cura, and my hand is instantly healed enough that I at least won't need a cast.

The power of the spell surprises me, but I think I know what caused it, so I won't panic for the moment. Come to think of it, I don't think I'll panic at all. After all, I have a mostly-healed hand, my daughter was just born, and Tifa and I have to name her now.

Tifa's looking at me with some guilt in her eyes. I know she's feeling bad that she broke my hand. It's likely that she'll apologize later.

I nod reassuringly to her and come to stand over her shoulder so that I can look at our daughter.

She's beautiful.

"We need to name her," Tifa murmurs, tenderly caressing one pudgy cheek with a shaking fingertip. I know that she's utterly exhausted. I lick my lips. Then I tap Tifa on the shoulder.

'Rinoa,' I sign singled-handedly to her after she looks up at me. It was my mother's middle name, and a name that Tifa has always liked, ever since we met as kids. She looks thoughtful for a second, and then she nods.

"Rinoa Raine Strife," she says quietly. I blink. Then I smile knowingly, genuinely. Raine was her mother's first name.

Even if my hand's broken and I have a summon laughing at me in the back of my head, I'm happy.

For the first time in a long, long time, I'm completely happy.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**I don't own anybody here except the OCs._

_Yes, Terra is mine, and is from another story I'm working on. So, too, is Rinoa Raine mine, for that matter. Her names were taken from Final Fantasy VIII, if you couldn't tell. But yay, Tifa finally had her baby! Not done, yet, though. Still gotta get through a few (read: "indefinite number of") chapters before this'll be over. Yay for Cloud-torture._

_...You know, you can stop looking so homicidal, now, Cloud._

_Ahem._

_A huge thank you goes to **Misakiii-Chocolate-Chan** and **Calenlass Greenleaf1** for your reviews. Just to let you know, I don't think he'll be talking within the next chapter, but maybe the one after it. The next chapter might be short, too, because the one after it is really long. Hope you don't mind._

_Next chapter will be posted 12-5-09._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	5. Forsaken

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 5: Forsaken._**

**_

* * *

_**

_"Two of my favorite sayings go like this: 'Slight griefs talk, great ones are speechless', and 'Rather to die than to be dishonored'."  
--Anonymous_

**_

* * *

_**

Things have certainly been interesting since Rinoa was born. That's all I can really say to describe it.

It's been almost a month, now. Tifa and Rinoa were able to come home two days after the birth, and as soon as we had everybody settled comfortably in, the rest of our friends decided to drop in for a visit to meet the new baby. Needless to say, I wasn't pleased. That was about a week after Rinoa was born. I was sleep-deprived, my nerves were frayed, Griever had been teasing me relentlessly, and I was starting to see and hear _things _again. Things that weren't tangible. My temper had snapped. I don't think I've ever lost it like that, except maybe after Sephiroth killed everybody in Nibelheim when I was sixteen. I didn't kill any of our friends, but maybe Barret's malfunctioning arm and Yuffie's sore bum will remind them not to mess with me. After all, I threw them out on their asses, and that's quite a feat for somebody my size, especially since I did that to _Barret_.

I'm still smirking with pride over that little fact.

Regardless of my methods, I got the message across loud and clear: 'Keep it down or I'll defenestrate you forcefully.'

Yeah. Defenestrate. That's one of my new favorite verbs. It's the scientific term for the action of throwing somebody out a window.

...Smirk. Smirk. Smirk.

"What's got _you_ in such a good mood?"

I turn toward Tifa, who's sitting on the couch nursing Rinoa. Tifa's got a pale pink blanket thrown over one shoulder and across Rinoa to hide herself from sight. It's an image that fills me with joy, love, and pride every time I catch a glimpse.

I hold up one finger, and then slap my wrist. Tifa quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching.

"Okay," she says. "One word?"

I nod. Then I pantomime picking somebody up and then punting them across a long distance.

"Punting?" she asks. I shake my head. Then I use the sign language equivalent of the letter 'd'.

"Begins with the letter 'd'," she observed. I nod again. She thinks for a moment. Then she smirks, too.

"Defenestration?" she guesses. I nod firmly, and then sign 'Bingo, bingo!' at her.

Tifa giggles.

"That's a really funny word," she says after she can talk again. Rinoa's mewling at Tifa's breast, and we both know that she needs to be burped. Tifa does it before I can offer to.

I give her a silly smile, more happy than I've been in a long while, and head over to sit down beside my fiancé and our daughter. I pass the calendar on the way. A date circled in red catches my eye, and I pause to look at it.

May fifteenth is circled, and the words 'Terra' and 'Banora' are written inside the little square. It's twelve days away. And Tifa's birthday is the day after tomorrow.

Oops. I almost forgot about that. Good thing I got her her present months ago.

I decide not to think about it too much. Right now, I just want to sit down with the portion of my family that's at home, right now, before Marlene and Denzel return from school and the noise level skyrockets.

_'You know, they've gotten a lot better about that, recently,' _Griever observes. It's been a while since he's spoken, so his voice startles me slightly, just enough that I twitch hard enough for Tifa to feel it. She looks at me inquisitively. I shake my head in reply and put my arms around her and Rinoa and decide to enjoy the moment.

_Without _a certain Summon's input. Period. Full-stop. Etcetera and so forth.

Ha, stick _that _up your ass and suck on it, Griever. Nyah.

Oh, shove it. Seriously.

...No, I'm _not_ immature. At least, not all the time. But we all have our moments.

...Go away, I'm having a moment, here.

* * *

Tifa's birthday is an enjoyable affair. The whole gang (plus Turks) comes over to celebrate another year of her life. By the time the evening is over, I'm sure that Reno, Cid, Barret, and Yuffie will all be drunk- they've only been here, like, ten minutes and I've served them three drinks apiece.

I can feel my temples starting to pound already just from the thought of the chaos that's probably going to come. My only comfort concerning them is that after they're inebriated, I can probably give them tonic water, and they won't know the difference.

Sigh.

Ah, but Tifa's grinning at me from where she's sitting at the table with Rinoa in her arms. My girls look happier than I've seen either of them in a while- Tifa because she's visiting with all our friends, and Rinoa because she's spotted Nanaki's tail and is watching it swish back and forth. I sign a warning to Tifa as Rinoa waves her arms toward the flame. Tifa quickly grabs our daughter's hand back.

Rinoa doesn't mind (she's really a laid-back baby, from what I've been told), she just fixes her dark-blue gaze on me, instead. She likes my hair even more than she does Tifa's, probably because it's so light in color, where everyone else's is pretty dark.

Yeah, Griever still hasn't let me live _that_ one down. _He _says it's because my hair resembles a chocobo's backside.

Sigh for a second time.

Before I know it, the sun has set, Barret, Cid, Reno, and Yuffie are drunk, and it's time for cake. Denzel and Marlene are the ones who baked it, with a little help from me with the frosting. Marlene had to supervise, since neither Denzel nor I have much skill in the kitchen, really.

Let's just say that my culinary cadavers made me the laughingstock of the Shinra infantry.

And yes, I _do_ mean to use the word 'cadavers'. Because nothing _ever _comes out alive! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha- cough-hack- ha!

Ahem.

Anyway, the cake itself is a massive thing. Marlene and Denzel really went overboard, but I guess that that's okay since Tifa's twenty-four, today, and just had a baby not long ago. The cake is three layers, and from the center to the edge, has a radius of about five inches. That makes it ten inches from one side to the other. I know that it's red velvet, Tifa's favorite. After all, I had to help frost it.

Mmm... Have I ever mentioned that I really, _really _like whipped-cream frosting? Yeah. That stuff's better than crack, any day. Not that I've ever tried crack, but enough of the guys in the infantry smoked it in the barracks that I sometimes got high anyway. It wasn't pretty.

But I digress.

I light the candles on the cake and pick it up by the plate underneath it as Denzel and Marlene rush around to turn out the lights. Then, they get everybody to start singing "Happy Birthday" as I cautiously walk out to present our creation to Tifa.

She's grinning at me knowingly.

I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling just slightly as my hands flash through the sign language for "Happy Birthday" just barely in time with the song that our friends and drunkards are singing around us. I think Cid and Barret are singing it like a funeral dirge. I don't know why. And... is that _Vincent_ singing?

...I think the world just ended.

But seriously. I never knew that Vincent could sing, let alone _that_ well. And this is coming from another guy's point of view. Vincent is a good singer. Who would've thought it?

The song finishes (with a chord from Reno, Cid, Yuffie, and Barret that hurts my ears), and then Tifa pauses for a long second, catching Rinoa's hands to keep them away from the cake, before blowing out the candles. A cheer and clapping goes up from our friends. Tifa's grinning with some embarrassment.

That's when Marlene turns to me.

"Cloud!" she exclaims. "You forgot to bring a knife to cut it with!"

I blink at her for a second, feeling like an idiot. Then I decide to do something that I don't think I've done in the presence of everybody here, at least for a while: I crack a joke.

'Do you think First Tsurugi would be big enough for the job?' I sign, glancing at the cake and then at Tifa in question.

She purses her lips and then giggles, her eyes dancing with merriment.

"No, Cloud, I don't think you want to use First Tsurugi for this," Tifa laughs. "That would be overkill. A kitchen knife will work just fine."

I nod, smiling just for her, and head back to the kitchen as everyone else tries to absorb the fact that I just "made a funny" in front of them. Denzel and Marlene are already laughing, though.

After cutting the cake and once everyone has had a piece (or two, in Reno's case- I don't know how he can eat so much and not get sick!) they all give Tifa gifts. Some, if not most of them, have something or other to do with Rinoa, who's sleeping peacefully by this time. Tifa hands her to me when Reno and Yuffie plunk a big box down in front of her. I watch with some amusement as she carefully begins to tear open the wrappings, as though she's afraid something's going to jump out at her. Then Yuffie and Reno start chanting for her to "Shred it! Shred it!"

I move out of the way, preferring that Rinoa stay asleep- if she doesn't get a good nap in every few hours, she gets cranky. I slip off, unnoticed, to sit down in the rocking chair by the fireplace, moving it to face the group. Moving was definitely worth it to see the look of surprise on Tifa's face as a whole bunch of confetti comes flying out of the box.

Phew. Wailing-baby-crisis successfully averted, thank God.

...Oh, my Lord. They gave her a frickin' _thong_. With a matching _bra._

Right now I think I want to just crawl under a rock and hide for a while, at least until this all blows over. Really, I _really_ don't want to have to interact with anybody after this.

I've officially decided that I'm going to murder those two in their sleep.

It's then that Rinoa sighs in her sleep and coos faintly, turning her head so that she's got her other cheek laying on my chest.

I melt.

Seriously, she's the only one in the world who can make me turn into a mushy pile of goop at the drop of a hat, just because I know that she's my _daughter,_and I'm already so in love with her that she can ask anything of me and I'll do it. Yes, even change poopy diapers. If my baby's uncomfortable or scared, I'll be right there to chase away the source of her unease.

Wow. Is this what Barret feels like all the time when he's around Marlene?

I think I'm probably just about a big pile of mush dozing in the rocking chair by the time that somebody calls my name from across the room. I blink myself fully awake- it takes a second, since I'm so sleep-deprived- and look over inquisitively. Yuffie's waving me over. I frown, and then nod pointedly at Rinoa, who's fast asleep on my chest.

"But don't you have a present for Tifa?" Denzel asks. I nod, and then take my left hand off of Rinoa's back, making sure to hold her up with my right hand, and dig around in my pocket for a moment.

I frown. It's not there?

Then I remember. I left it on my desk behind the photo of the kids and Tifa and me from after we finished building the new bar. The photo was taken before I got Geostigma.

I wave Denzel over, and then, when I'm sure that Tifa can't see around him, I tell him what's going on.

'I left it on my desk,' I sign with one hand. 'Could you take Rinoa for a second while I go get it?'

Denzel takes a second to translate what I said- he's not used to the one-handed signs like Tifa and I are. Then he nods. I get up carefully, slowly, and then let Denzel sit down in the chair before I pass Rinoa off to him, making sure that she doesn't wake up as I position Denzel's arms around her properly. When my hands are finally free, I smile down at him and ruffle his hair before I turn to Tifa.

'I'll be right back,' I sign to her. She smiles, laughs, and nods, and I slip upstairs for a second.

My room hasn't changed much since I was rescued after my captivity. It still has my bed in it, and still doubles as my office. First Tsurugi is propped in the corner. I remember that I have to clean it before I go to bed tonight- it won't do for it to get rusty.

After a quick glance around, I head to my desk to retrieve the gift.

It's not there.

Wait. _Not there?!_

What the fuck?! I _know_ I put it there just the other-

Oh, that's right. Agh, I wish I could kick myself.

Sighing, I head over to my closet, open the door, and reach up to the top shelf. I have to stand on tiptoe so that I can retrieve the little box from the very back of the closet- as it is, I can't see what I'm doing, so it takes me a few tries to find it.

Aha! There you are, you scoundrel!

I find the box and, in my hurry to pull it out, I accidentally knock a heavy bag of potions and ethers off of the shelf. They collide painfully with my head before dropping to the floor with a loud thump and the crash of bottles knocking together. I'm thrown off-balance by the sudden blow. My arms windmill for a second, and then I go down as I trip over the bag under my feet.

Ow. Pain.

My head's aching even worse, and my bum's a little sore, but the worst-damaged of anything is my pride. Luckily, nobody was here to laugh at my folly.

Oh, shut _up_, Griever!

_'I'm not the one who just had a huge "D-oh!" moment, here,'_ he quips. I grumble silently to myself, scowling at the ceiling for a moment. Then I sigh again and pick myself up.

The bag of potions and ethers is wet, now, probably because some or all of the bottles have shattered. I sigh, pick it up, and look inside it. Yep. They're all damaged and leaking.

Another sigh escapes my lips. I head out of my room, rubbing my forehead where the bag impacted with it, and go back downstairs.

Tifa looks at me with concern as I re-enter the bar area, but I just roll my eyes in reply and tell her what happened in as few signs as possible, holding up the bag of damaged supplies as proof. Then I set it down beside the wall and come over to her. Everybody else is looking at me expectantly, and I try to ignore their stares as I hand Tifa the box with a shy smile.

She takes it with a sincere grin of her own.

My mind drifts back as I watch her open the gift I just gave her, and her face lights up. I had to save up for almost a year to get these for her, but I know that Tifa likes pearls as much as she likes raw Materia. Had Sephiroth not burned down Nibelheim eight years ago, she would've had a set of pearl earrings with a matching necklace, passed down from her mother. The ones I got her have the same settings as her mother's did. I hope that these can at least partially replace the ones that she lost in the fire.

Her eyes are swimming when she looks back up at me, and I nod to the questions in them. A second later, she's hugging me tightly, and I wrap my arms around her.

"Thank you, Cloud," she whispers into my ear. I can hear the lump in her throat. I rub her back soothingly in reply.

I'm just glad she likes them.

* * *

The date is May fifteenth. I'm on the _Shera_'s bridge, Rinoa in my arms. To either side of me are Denzel and Marlene, staring with awe out through the view-ports as we fly across the ocean toward the Mideel continent. We're on our way to meet with Terra.

On Denzel's other side is Tifa, standing to my right. She's holding the eight lilies we took from Aerith's church before Cid picked us up. The rest of the AVALANCHE crew is milling about the ship somewhere. I don't really care where they are- the only ones whose locations I'm really sure of are those of Cid and Yuffie, because Cid's piloting and Yuffie's probably in the bathroom puking her guts out.

Rinoa's tiny fist hits my cheek as she flails about, trying to grab my hair. I wince- she definitely has Tifa's strength- and stick my finger in her hand. She grabs that, instead, and goes back to looking out the view-ports.

I'm glad she didn't inherit my penchant for motion sickness. If she had, I'd be a mess right now.

As the continent comes into view on the horizon, I find myself comforted by the familiar weight of First Tsurugi in the holster at my back. There's a reason why I brought my sword and my armor, and unfortunately it isn't because of any random monsters.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: My memories are fucked up. Especially the ones pertaining to my days in Shinra's army.

Terra said that we knew each other, and I know that she was a good woman back then. But times have changed, and people change. Take Sephiroth, for instance. He was a good leader, a charismatic person, and had a sense of honor almost as strong as Angeal's. But then he found out about his heritage, decided that he had a God-complex, and everything went out the window and up in flames. Biggest one-eighty I'd ever seen, certainly, which was, perhaps, a reason why I was taken down so easily when he came to burn the town.

Sigh.

Anyway, my point is that if something goes wrong, it's not going to be something that the others can handle. I'm the only one alive, except perhaps Vincent, who truly knows what kind of carnage and utter _destruction_ a SOLDIER First Class was- _is_- capable of. And I'm the only one currently alive who could probably handle anything Terra might throw at me. Not to sound conceited, or anything. It's just the simple truth.

Here's another confession: I'm actually a little nervous.

I don't want to have to fight Terra, because if I do, then that means people will get hurt. Most likely myself, yes, but the widespread destruction that'll result will injure and kill many more people than I'm willing to sacrifice.

It'll put my family in danger, too.

I know that Tifa can take care of herself, but we have Rinoa and Denzel and Marlene to think about, too.

The continent seems to grow larger and larger as we approach it rapidly.

After pondering it for a moment, I turn to Denzel and nudge his foot with my boot. He looks up at me inquisitively, and then reflexively holds out his arms as I lean down to pass Rinoa to him. My expression is grim as I pull Marlene over to stand next to Denzel and Rinoa. This catches Tifa's attention.

'I want you guys to stay on the airship,' I sign to the kids. Marlene and Denzel open their mouths to protest, but I shake my head firmly, feeling slightly nauseous.

'Stay on the airship,' I order. 'This is not an option. If everything is safe, Tifa will come get you, but until then, you're to stay put. Keep Rinoa safe, understand?'

Denzel is silent a moment, and Marlene looks a little scared, holding onto his sleeve tightly.

"Okay, Cloud," Denzel says at last. I give him a small smile.

'Thanks, Denzel,' I sign. 'I'm counting on you.'

And he beams proudly at me because he knows I'm proud of him and that I can rely on him.

Then Cid's landing the _Shera _outside a ruined village that I only dimly remember from the days when Zack and I were on the run from Shinra. I can see Terra kneeling in the distance under a fruit-bearing tree. Exchanging a glance with Tifa, I turn and head out to disembark.

Tifa's right behind me as we descend the ladder to the ground. Yuffie goes flying past us, having followed the urge to simply jump straight off of the deck. I touch down a second later. Soon the whole group is gathered there. Tifa has the flowers in her hands. I take a few steps forward, feeling slightly hesitant. Then I purse my lips and turn to the rest of them. They all look confident, despite my misgivings.

The scene is so familiar that for a second, I forget that it's been over three years since we defeated Sephiroth. I open my mouth to speak.

A pathetic rasp is all that escapes.

A wave of frustration runs through me, and I grit my teeth briefly before I look at Tifa.

'Translate for me, please,' I sign. She nods.

'Everybody,' I continue, with Tifa's voice echoing the shapes that my hands are forming. 'I'm going to say this now: if things get violent, at all, you have to return to the airship. If Terra decides that she wants us dead, I'll be the only one to fight her. Understand?'

Tifa finishes translating. Then the meaning of what I said hits her at the same time as it does the rest of them. Protests go up all around the group. I wait them out, and then I make a sharp motion for silence. My expression is grim.

'I don't know what to expect from Terra,' I tell them, with Tifa translating again. 'When I knew her eight years ago, she was a good, sane woman, but we all know how quickly things like sanity can be compromised. I have no idea if she's all there, anymore. What I do know is that she was one of the best SOLDIERs in the program, and she was involved with one of the SOLDIERs that defected shortly before Sephiroth lost it.'

I pause in thought again. 'As far as I can remember, at least one of those SOLDIERs went insane just like Sephiroth. There were only four SOLDIERs of that caliber: Sephiroth, Angeal Hewley, Genesis Rhapsodos, and Terra Jerrel. From what I remember hearing, at least three of them were experimented on with Jenova cells, all in the same process, and those three all ended up either crazy or dead.'

I glance toward where I saw Terra. 'My point is, I'm probably the only one who could take her down if I have to, and I don't want any of you getting involved if that happens.'

That is my final word, and I stare levelly into each of their gazes briefly, making sure that they know to stay out of any fighting that might start. After I'm sure that they understand, I turn and start walking.

The path I follow through the ruins is winding and treacherous. Liquid Lifestream has erupted from the ground, much like it did at Mideel. As I make my way around the lake of Mako, it bubbles up toward me, caressing my skin, its touch that of an old lover. It's not the concentrated stuff that Hojo pumped into me, so the burn that it causes is little more than an irritation that I don't even bat an eyelash at.

I can feel their stares on my back. Frankly, I don't care. The Lifestream holds no secrets from me, not anymore.

I'm not afraid.

If they don't want to take the path I'm walking, they'll just have to find another way. Of course, I'm not sure that there _is_ another way... But I have more confidence in them than I want to admit out loud. I know that they'll follow; they're a lot braver than I am, for certain.

Sure enough, within the space of a few steps, I can hear them follow. I also know that the Lifestream will leave them alone.

By the time Terra comes into my sight, I can hear Cid and Barret cursing again. That's always a good sign.

Terra doesn't turn around as I approach her from behind, making sure that my footsteps can be heard easily. She's kneeling in front of a large tree, from which hang a number of pale apples. I think they might be Banora Whites- after all, that's what this town was famous for, in the time before it was ruined. To my left is what remains of a once-proud mansion.

"You know..." Her voice is nostalgic, almost sad. "This is where they were born and raised. Angeal and Genesis, that is."

I can see her trace a pale fingertip across the surface of the ground, the very dust of which hums with the presence of the Lifestream. Then she stands up and turns around, removing the trench coat that she was wearing.

I take a breath in surprise.

Protruding from Terra's shoulders are two snow-white wings, the span of which is probably greater than I am tall. Her once-midnight-black hair is streaked with the color of the stars, and her eyes are tired, her smile bittersweet, even though she stands tall and proud in the crisp, dark uniform of a SOLDIER First Class, her very bearing that of one whom has rightfully earned that title through blood, sweat, and tears.

'What happened to you?' I mouth to her, furrowing my brow in confusion. Her small grin widens slightly, becoming a little derisive in nature, but I can tell that the emotion isn't directed toward me.

The others come to a halt behind me. Their shock and wariness is almost palpable.

"It's a funny thing, degradation," Terra says quietly. I see her eyes move back toward a small mound in the ground, the top of it marked by a smooth stone. A grave. "Genesis and Angeal both succumbed to it. In their desperation, they sought different things."

She glances at her wings. First her right, then her left. Then she looks back at me.

"Angeal sought to right what had been done to him," she continues. "When he finally realized that he couldn't be cured and that he couldn't save the world from itself, he sought an honorable death. He merged with some of his clones and became a monster. Then he provoked your friend, SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair, into killing him."

I see her swallow, and she clenches her fists at her sides. I tense in preparation for a fight. But she relaxes, and when she looks at me again, I can see the tears in her eyes for an instant before they drip down her cheeks. Tifa is at my back, and her touch on my upper arm is comforting despite what I told her earlier. Terra smiles sadly at us.

"Genesis went mad, and sought salvation by any means," she intones quietly. "He was afraid of death. Zack was finally forced to take him down after Genesis tried to use the Goddess Materia, which had been buried beneath Banora for years, to remake the world."

She pauses thoughtfully again.

"In fact," she concludes. "The only one of the four of us who never suffered the degradation process was Sephiroth."

"Yo, why you tellin' us all this?" Barret's interjection makes Terra blink. I think that she probably forgot that the rest of them are there. She smiles slightly.

"Because you need to understand why I called you here," she replies. She spreads her hands in time with her wings. Then she looks me in the eye.

"The truth is, I'm dying," she admits. There is an infinite sadness in her gaze even though she smiles. "I won't last much longer. But there are things I need to take care of before I go to meet Angeal and Genesis in the Lifestream. And I need some help with that."

'And what might that be?' I ask, frowning slightly. I don't like the way she seems to be hesitating. Pursing her lips, I watch as she looks pained for a long moment. Then I follow her with my eyes as she turns and walks toward the dilapidated mansion, her arm cradling her abdomen tightly.

When she returns, my eyebrows shoot up, and I can hear Tifa's intake of breath from my side.

Terra is holding the hand of a little boy, perhaps seven years old. He has pitch-black hair, and his eyes are dark blue, guileless though they're slitted like a cat's. They glow slightly as he blinks up at me. In his arms, he's carrying a little girl, perhaps a year or so old. She has light brown hair and emerald-green eyes which are too wise for her age. A tiny pink bow is tied around one lock of her chestnut curls.

In Terra's left arm, she's holding a little boy, maybe three years old. He has glossy silver hair and curious eyes that glow Mako green and are slitted like a cat's. Terra's eyes. Sephiroth's eyes.

My hand reflexively goes to the hilt of First Tsurugi before I can stop it, and it takes an effort of will to lower my arm back down to my side again after Terra gives me an understanding look.

"You have nothing to fear from them," she says. "They mean no harm."

The seven-year-old looks up at Terra curiously.

"Momma?" he asks. "Are these really the Children of Fate? The ones who beat Jenova?"

Terra hums an affirmative.

"Yes, Zack, they are," she tells him. Then she turns back to us. I manage to tear my eyes away from the little Sephiroth-boy in order to meet her stare.

'What do you want?' I ask defensively. Terra looks apologetic.

"This is my son, Zackary Angeal Hewley," she explains. "Named for his father as well as for Zack Fair. The girl is Aerith Gainsborough, and the boy is Sephiroth Crescent."

I think my heart probably just stopped in my chest for a couple of seconds. When I regain my senses again, I scowl visibly and nudge Tifa behind me.

'How dare you?' I demand. 'How dare you make such a claim? You have no right-'

"What I say is the truth," Terra snaps irritably. I grit my teeth, every fiber of my body humming in anticipation of a fight.

"I have a request to make of you. All of you," she says, reining in her temper again when Zack looks up at her worriedly. She glances at him reassuringly, squeezes his hand. Then she looks back over at us.

"I need you to take care of them," she explains. Cid and Yuffie immediately protest- frankly, I'm surprised they held their silence this long- before Tifa turns around and politely but firmly demands their silence.

"Could you please elaborate?" Tifa asks. I glance at her, and find sympathy in her burgundy eyes.

Terra swallows. "I don't have long," she says softly. "And I have no family left to care for them. They... They're different from other children. That's why I've held on as long as I have, to see to it that they will be brought up by someone who can relate to them and help them learn to control these powers."

She takes a breath, and the pain she's feeling is bare in her expression for an instant before she schools her features into a neutral mask again. I can tell that this is difficult for her to say.

Terra lowers her voice. "Zack and Aerith are the last of their kind. Aerith is half-Cetra, and Zack at least has Cetra blood. He and Sephiroth both have an extraordinary gift with a blade and with magic. I haven't tested Aerith, yet, but even now plants grow tall when she speaks. It's a type of natural magic that I've only seen in one person before."

'Aerith,' I mouth with wonder. The image of my old friend floats to the forefront of my mind. I compare it mentally to the baby in Zack's arms.

I frown as pieces begin to click into place, my gaze drifting to the silver-haired boy.

'They're really Aerith and Sephiroth,' I deduce. Judging by their ages, this Sephiroth would've probably been born right after Meteor, and this Aerith would've been born just after the Advent Crisis.

Terra's nodding.

"Yes, they really are Aerith and Sephiroth," she says. When she sees the incredulous looks that the rest of AVALANCHE is giving her, she nods.

"I know it sounds far-fetched," she tells us. "But it's true. You can't hear the Planet like I do. You weren't able to hear what happened."

She takes a breath, and it sounds painful. "Eight years ago, in Nibelheim, Sephiroth was taken over by Jenova. She used him like a puppet, just like she used you, Cloud, three years ago during your journey. His mind was weakened by the revelation of his origins; she used that weakness to gain complete and total control over his every move. When you finally killed him, you freed him from Jenova's control. He was reborn just six months later, in the same body he was born in thirty years previous."

Terra pauses from her narrative, grunting as she hunches over slightly. I can see the sweat beading on her brow.

"Gaia gave him another chance at life," she grits out past the pain. "A chance to be the person he should have been. He has retained his memories of his previous life. He knows what it is like to be unloved, and now, thanks to the family he has found in Zack and me and Aerith, he knows what love is like. I daresay he enjoys being loved more than he enjoyed being a lab experiment, don't you, Seph?"

She turns to the child, who wraps his arms around her neck in reply, clinging tightly to her. I can see Terra's tears for a heartbeat before she buries her face in his short hair. When Terra turns back to us again, her face and eyes are dry.

"After the Advent Crisis last year, and after the holy water cured the Geostigma, I awoke one morning to find this little girl sitting on my doorstep." She gestures to Aerith. "She didn't cry a bit, just cooed to the flowers on our windowsills. As she talked, the flowers grew taller, fuller, brighter. On the same day, I realized that the voice of the last of the Cetra, Aerith Gainsborough, had vanished from the Lifestream. She, too, retains all of her memories of her previous life, as well as the body she was born in."

She pauses long enough to study the three children, and then she turns her stare back onto mine.

"I ask that you care for these three as though they were your own," she pleads. "Or at least find a good, stable home where they can be loved and raised right."

Silence reigns for a long few moments.

Surprisingly, Zack is the one to break it.

"Momma?" he asks. Terra looks down at him. "Momma, even if they don't want us, we'll be okay. I'll take care of Seph and Aerith, I promise."

Terra grins at him and pulls him to her side in a one-armed hug.

"I know you will," she whispers.

It's then that Tifa squeezes my arm. I look down at her in inquiry, only to find her peering up at me with determination in her eyes.

"We can't leave them to their own devices, Cloud," she whispers. "We owe Aerith too much for that. Zack is innocent in all this. And Sephiroth was given a second chance by the Lifestream itself."

I sigh.

'I know,' I sign to her. 'But we don't have the room for all of them.'

Tifa purses her lips. "We've been saving up to put an addition onto the bar. I think it's just about time that we do that."

I stare at her for a long moment. Then I realize that I'm not going to win this argument. I take a second to deliberate. Then I turn to Terra again.

'We'll take care of them,' I mouth to her. She looks slightly surprised, but happy at the same time. 'They might have to stay with Elmyra Gainsborough in Kalm for a little while while we build the addition to the bar, but we can take care of them.'

She's crying openly, now, and it's bittersweet because she's happy that the kids will be cared for, but at the same time I know she's sad that she won't be able to see them grow up. It's enough to tug at even _my_ heartstrings.

"Thank you," she whispers. Then she sets Sephiroth down on his bare feet. The child is wearing a blue-green t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts that look like they've seen better days, lovingly mended and patched. It's then that I notice that he's carrying a little backpack. I can see a larger backpack on Zack's shoulders.

"Everything they own is in those packs," Terra tells us. She hands Sephiroth a small, wooden sword, obviously hand-carved. It's worn and dented from use. Then she looks up at me, and her gaze is wary and hopeful.

"You're sure about this?" she asks. I nod firmly. I've given my word, and I won't go back on it. I keep my promises when I can.

Terra ducks her head, thanking us again quietly.

Then she kneels before the three children, hugging first Sephiroth, and then Aerith, telling each that she loves them very much, and that she'll be able to talk to them again soon. Then she sends Sephiroth walking over to us with Aerith in tow. She can't quite walk, yet, but Sephiroth helps her as best he can, half-carrying her in a way that I would even dare call _cute_.

Ye gad, I think I'm going soft.

Then Terra turns to Zack. They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Zack launches himself at her, his arms flying around her neck as his shoulders shake. Terra hugs Zack for a long, long time, burying her face in his neck.

I let them have their privacy, and kneel in front of Aerith and Sephiroth as they finally make it over to me and Tifa. Sephiroth meets my gaze while Tifa picks up Aerith to relieve Sephiroth of his passenger. He seems to bear a little trepidation, almost bordering on shyness. He's having trouble looking me in the eye.

'Can you understand me?' I sign to him. Sephiroth nods.

"Good to see you, Cloud," he says, his high-pitched child's voice strangely solemn and well-articulated. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, but I can see no guile in his gaze, nothing to indicate any hint of the madness that he possessed the last two times I faced him. He's perfectly sane, and his statement seems to have been sincere. I lick my lips.

'Good to see you, too, Sephiroth,' I sign in return. He blinks at me, and then a small smile quirks his lips.

Maybe he won't end up as an enemy, after all.

Terra and Zack are finishing their goodbyes, now, though Zack is still crying. He knows that he'll never see his mother again, and it's going to be difficult for him to adjust to not having her around. I just hope that things will get easier as time goes on, and that he won't end up turning on us when he grows up. He's sniffling slightly as he walks over to stand next to Tifa, who's getting acquainted with Aerith.

It's then that Terra looks between Tifa and me.

"Tifa?" Terra asks quietly. Tifa blinks and looks over at her.

"Yes?" she returns. Terra looks like she's just barely holding back her grief.

"Please," Terra begs, voice barely a whisper. "Please take care of them. They're good kids."

Tifa nods confidently. "I will. We all will."

Terra looks a little relieved.

"Thank you so much," she breathes. Then she looks at me. "Cloud, could I have a few words with you before you go? And could you please bring the flowers with you?"

I nod, and get back to my feet. Zack takes Sephiroth's hand, and I calmly take the lilies from Tifa. The rest of the group looks pretty shell-shocked, save for Vincent and Nanaki. But then again, I have a hard time deciphering their emotions on a good day, anyway. Who knows what they're thinking?

'Go back to the airship,' I sign to them. I look at them sternly when Yuffie goes to protest. 'Go back to the _Shera_. Let Denzel and Marlene know what's going on.'

Tifa leans up and kisses me. Then she turns and leaves, Aerith in one arm and Zack's hand in her grasp. I can see Zack pick up Sephiroth as they near the more treacherous part of the path. I know that they'll be okay, though, when the others slowly start to follow them. Soon enough, I'm left alone with Terra, nothing but the sound of the wind and the Lifestream to break the silence.

I wordlessly take a couple of steps forward, holding out the lilies to her.

Terra takes them with solemn gratitude.

'Who are they for?' I mouth before she turns to the grave.

"You know some of them," she replies. Terra gestures to the mound of dirt. "This is where Genesis' parents are buried. It's the only place I can come to remember my fallen, because none of them have graves."

I blink. She sees my confusion.

"Genesis Rhapsodos," she murmurs, laying one lily on the ground in front of the grave. "Sephiroth. Aerith Gainsborough." Two more lilies are set down, side by side. "Chie Jerrel. Zack Fair. My first child, who died before I could carry her to term."

She lays another three blossoms down on the earth as tears drip down her cheeks.

"Angeal Hewley," she whispers. I see her shoulders shaking in silent sobs as she presses a lingering kiss to the second-to-last white lily before she puts it to rest beside its brethren.

Then she's silent.

I edge around her to look at her expression. Her features are closed off, though she's still weeping.

'Who's the last one for?' I ask, daring to interrupt her silence. Somehow, I'm not surprised by her answer when it comes almost five minutes later.

"The last one is for me," she replies, and her voice is like steel, hard and determined. I back away as she gets to her feet, her wings flaring behind her. Then I watch as she turns to me.

"Cloud," she begins. "Will you please bury me here? I... I want to be close to the place where Angeal spent so much of his life."

I purse my lips. Burying her will take a long time, but I'm willing to do it. Terra is a good woman.

I nod.

Then I draw First Tsurugi out of its harness as Terra thanks me quietly, drawing a pair of short, curved swords out of the sheathes strapped to her thighs.

"All of my Materia are equipped to the bangle on my arm," she tells me, bending down and undoing the straps of her sheathes. She takes off her thick belt, one of the marks of a SOLDIER First Class, because her sheathes are also connected to its leather to keep them from moving too much or slipping down her legs. Her shoulder pauldrons hit the ground with a quiet, metallic thud.

"When I die, Cloud, these swords and armor are for Zack," she says. I nod. I'll see that he gets them when he's old enough.

"Thank you," she whispers. Then she charges forward with a single flap of her wings.

I block her first strike, and parry her second. Dodging her third, I find an opening and swing in with a slashing blow that gores her side. Terra doesn't even make a sound, but leaps backward, slamming the pommels of her swords together. There's a series of mechanical clicks as the pommels connect, linking the blades into one long, dual-bladed staff-like sword.

Huh. That's a nice trick. I wonder how it works...

This time, her hit makes my arms go numb.

"Don't hold back!" she exclaims.

I glare at her, deciding to break the lock that we're currently in. I take a quick step backward, letting my sword fall to the side. Then, before she can pin it down, I draw First Tsurugi up and score a glancing blow to her belly. She nearly decapitates me in the next second, only missing because I just barely see it coming and duck to avoid it.

Terra's a good swordswoman, I'll give her that.

She counters every strike I make, her blades whirling as she effortlessly separates and combines them over and over for optimum striking power and speed. If she wants to go for power, she conjoins them, and for speed, she breaks them apart. I have trouble keeping up.

But I also know that Terra wasn't famous for her sword skills. No, she was famous as a magic user- her true power lies in the Materia she wields, and so far, she hasn't used any, yet. That means that she's holding back.

'Get serious!' I mouth at her. 'You want me to kill you, then earn it!'

Even as I say the words, they twist my guts to knots.

A small smirk quirks Terra's lips. Then she leaps back and hurls a powerful Firaga spell at me before I can react. The flames glance off of my arms and pauldron, the third fireball making impact with the center of my chest. I dive and roll underneath her follow-up slash, putting out the flames at the same time- my arm screams in pain where it's been scorched.

_'Call upon us!'_

The mental call startles me enough that I stumble and take a hit that slashes across my chest.

What?!

_'Summon us!'_ It's Griever.

Summon you and who else?

_'Griever and Fenrir!'_ Fenrir? I didn't know he was a summon. Oh, well.

I reach for a link with the Materia I need to activate in order to summon the two in question. Somehow, I'm not surprised when I find that they're located inside of me, having not just been implanted in my body, but absorbed into my very blood, much like Yazoo and Loz did after they stole the mastered Materia I had collected.

The summoning hurts me, but it creates a blinding flash of light that briefly stuns Terra. A roar and a howl echo through the area, ringing off the hills and stones, causing the lake of Mako to ripple and then splash and boil. A thousand voices seem to be singing into the otherwise-silent air.

The earth in front of me erupts as two forms break violently through the ground. One is the figure of a great timber wolf, his fur speckled grey and brown. I'm guessing that he's Fenrir. The other is that of an enormous black lion with an equally huge pair of white wings. His roar heralds another tremor, and then the light fades, leaving them standing between me and Terra. I recognize the lion's voice as belonging to Griever.

Terra is almost white as she stares at Fenrir and Griever in momentary disbelief. As though she senses that they're here to kill her and that she can't do anything against their combined power, she smiles slightly and lowers her swords.

Fenrir and Griever don't attack for a long moment, staring her down. I hear the _Shera_ arrive overhead, the sound of her engines seemingly loud in the sudden silence.

Terra looks up to the ship. I follow her gaze.

Denzel, Marlene, Zack, Aerith, and Sephiroth are standing at the view-port, their noses pressed to the glass as they strain to see what's happening. Tifa is standing next to them, Rinoa cradled in her arms.

The sound of a footstep draws my attention back to Terra. She's looking directly at me, ignoring Fenrir and Griever, who are standing in front of me to my left and right.

Stay back, guys. This is between me and her right now. Only attack if she attacks one of you.

"_Understood," _Griever rumbles, and then shakes himself, ruffling his wings before he steps back to crouch, ready, off to the side. Fenrir looks me in the eye, his gaze calculating.

"_**If she tries anything against either of us, I will rip out her throat," **_he growls at last. _**"But you are my Alpha, and I shall respect your wishes."**_

Thank you, Fenrir. I appreciate it.

Then I'm put on the defensive again as Terra charges in, lightning flying from her fingertips, her eyes glowing electric blue, brighter than normal.

"Just kill me!" she screams. I can hear the agony in her voice. Her hair is turning white even as I watch, her skin turning so pale that it's the grey of a freshly-dead corpse. Her wings are losing their feathers as the degradation progresses. The pain must be all but unbearable, slowly driving her mad.

I block another strike, grunting silently as the force she uses sends me to my knees. Damn, she hits hard!

"Cloud, _please,_ stop holding back and kill me!" she says. I can hear her breath hitch in a sob. I look up and meet her eyes, finding that she's openly weeping. "Before I change my mind! I don't want to spend the rest of my life in pain like this!"

She's gasping, now, from the strain of the degradation and from the exertion of the fight. I can feel her arms trembling through our swords.

"Please, Cloud!" Her voice is a high-pitched wheeze, pleading. "Please, just kill me! I can't take the pain any more! I... I want it to end... I... I'm ready to see Angeal again..."

I can see the beginnings of insanity in her eyes, and I know that if she slips over that edge, if she loses it...

We could very easily have another Sephiroth on our hands.

Finally, I nod.

'Goodbye, Terra,' I mouth to her.

She smiles tremulously even though she's scared and her teeth are gritted and she's got tears running down her cheeks and she's sweaty and her nose is running and her bangs are sticking to her face.

Aside from Tifa and Aerith, Terra is quite possibly the most beautiful person I've ever seen, in this moment. She has a good heart, and a kind soul. I think she could've been a good friend, if we could've had more time.

She flaps her wings to put distance between us, and then she comes at me again, her swords joined at their pommels. This time I don't hesitate, and neither do Griever or Fenrir. I parry her blow, and I thrust First Tsurugi forward just as my two Summons seize Terra by her magnificent wings.

First Tsurugi slides up to the hilt into her belly with a soft squelch, tearing through her spine and out her back.

Terra doubles over in pain, her eyes wide and her mouth flapping soundlessly in shock. Her blood gushes, white-green-red, in hot torrents over my hands and forearms. Her conjoined twin blades slip out of her fingers to land with a small thump on the cracked earth.

Then she glances up, and a small, calm, accepting smile forms on her lips before she slumps bonelessly against me.

I catch her easily.

Terra is still smiling slightly when I kneel, shifting her in my arms to cradle her like I did Kadaj. She curls up defensively as I remove First Tsurugi from her abdomen, but then she goes limp once more. I can feel her blood trickling over my thighs where she's laying across them.

For a long second, neither of us move much, save for the fact that Terra's coughing up blood. I think I probably stabbed her in the stomach and the lungs- First Tsurugi has a wide enough blade to do that, anyway.

Then she looks up at me, and I can see gratitude shining in her eyes.

"T-Thank you," she whispers. I nod, continuing to meet her gaze. The corners of her mouth twitch. "D-Don't... worry. I d-don't... think... that you'll... d-degrade."

She chokes briefly, sending blood into the air with her coughing.

She notices my inquisitive look when she can breathe again.

"You're the only p-person left-" She pauses to take a breath. "-in the world w-who... has p-pure S-c-cells in y-your b-body... a-and S-Sephiroth... n-never d-deg-grad-ded..."

Her voice is fading with her strength. When she finally falls silent, her eyes are staring up past my shoulder and her breaths are shallow, and blood gurgles in her throat with every inhalation.

I'm almost sure she's dead when she suddenly moves her eyes to look hazily into the air just in front of my face.

"_Time to come home, Terra,"_ says a man's voice. It's faint and intangible, but I can hear it.

Terra smiles, and there's such joy in her expression that I'm taken by surprise. I look into the air in front of me again as white-green light appears at the edge of my vision.

There's a hand reaching toward Terra.

It's masculine, covered by a black leather glove. I can just barely see the silhouette of the owner, a man with long, shaggy hair.

"Angeal," Terra whispers. She raises a shaking hand toward the light, but she only makes it halfway before her strength fails her. I catch her arm as it drops. I don't think she feels my grip, but I raise her hand to meet the other, nonetheless.

"_Thank you, Cloud Strife,"_ the man's voice says as he takes Terra's hand in his own.

He lifts her off of my lap, her body dissolving into pyreflies as she joins the Lifestream. I watch her disappear with damp eyes.

I know that Terra is finally at peace.

I open my mouth.

"...Good... bye," I rasp, my voice barely louder than the gentle breeze teasing my bangs, and then cough with the strain.

"_Cloud... Thank you."_

The whisper is carried to me on the wind, and I can feel the ghost of an embrace circle my shoulders for a brief second, the press of a pair of lips on my cheek. Then Terra is gone entirely, Angeal with her.

But I know that I'll probably hear from them later, as well as Zack.

Knowing Zack, he'll probably come to haunt me more often than not. After all, who else will he bug, now that Aerith and Sephiroth have been reborn?

My attention is drawn back to the present when Griever and Fenrir trot over me and Fenrir nudges me with his nose. I blink, returning to myself. Then I nod to them and run a hand over Fenrir's head, entangling my fingers in Griever's mane.

Griever actually _purrs _a little as he buts his head against my shoulder, laying down beside me as I sit down, suddenly feeling drained. Fenrir flops gracefully next to me- _isn't that a contradiction or something?_- and allows me to rest against his side.

There's silence for a long couple of minutes.

Then I realize something.

"Wh..."

The syllable makes it past my lips before dying, my voice giving out on me again. Frustrated, I reach out to Fenrir with my thoughts.

Why didn't you ever talk to me before?

Fenrir rolls one large, ice-blue eye up to gaze at me guilelessly.

"_**I wasn't fully aware until just this morning," **_he admits, and sounds a little sheepish. _**"I have never been confined to Materia before, never mind trapped inside the mind of a human. The transferral was very disorienting, and took a lot out of me."**_

I see.

It makes sense, I suppose. I mean, I was weak for months after being rescued, and I'd already had previous experience under Hojo's knife. I can only imagine what it must be like for Fenrir, a previously untamed summon, to be suddenly and inexplicably chained in a cage the size of a large marble.

Thank you both for your help.

"_It was our pleasure," _Griever intones, his voice a rumbling purr. I sigh, leaning a little more heavily against Fenrir.

The whine of the airship overhead reminds me that they'll probably be landing soon, or at least expecting me to climb the ladder to get to the deck. I sigh and sit up again.

The motion causes a gentle clinking sound to meet my ears. I look down.

A mystile bangle is sitting in my lap, the Materia in its slots dark without their owner to activate them. There are three green magic Materia- two are the darker green of offensive spells, and one the brighter hue belonging to white magic- as well as one yellow Materia and two purple. Further away, her conjoined short swords are glittering, and beyond them, at the edge of the battleground, are sitting her pauldrons and belt and sheathes, as well as her pouch of items.

Oh, God... I am _not _looking forward to giving those items to Zack Hewley, not after I've just killed his mother and am still covered in her blood.

But I don't have a choice.

I hear a pair of feet hit the ground behind me, and an instant later, Tifa crashes into my back, asking me repeatedly if I'm okay. This continues for a second before I regain my senses and look up at her, feeling conflicted and dirty.

"Teef," I manage to rasp before coughing again. The look of shock on her face remains for a second before she opens her mouth again. I shake my head wearily and reach out to pick up the mystile and then stagger to my feet.

The cut and burns on my chest and arm make themselves known, then.

I hiss, bending over slightly. Thankfully, Tifa and Fenrir are there to keep me upright. Griever watches with keen eyes as I gently push Tifa away and, with Fenrir's help, retrieve Terra's swords before going over to the armor, belt, and pouches.

It takes me a moment to figure out the locking mechanism on the pommels of her swords, but they come apart easily enough once I decipher the trick to it. I sheathe them with some reverence and pick up the lot of the gear with a faint wince. Then I turn back to Tifa.

She's looking concerned, and a little hurt. But right now, I don't want her to touch me. Right now, I just want to treat my wounds and then I want my space.

I nod to her, and then look over at Fenrir.

You can rest, now, if you'd like.

Fenrir nods, and with a great howl, leaps at me. I brace myself for the impact.

His body dissolves into pyreflies just before he hits me, and the specks of Lifestream are absorbed into my body. It hurts a _lot, _but it's not entirely unbearable. I gasp for a second, leaning heavily on First Tsurugi. Then I catch my breath and straighten, heading back over to Tifa.

My throat is so tight and sore that I decide that talking isn't worth the extra pain.

'Come on,' I sign to her. I try to convey through my eyes that I'm not angry at her. Tifa bites her lower lip for a second, and then she kisses me before ascending the ladder again.

I take a deep breath, glancing behind me at the battleground.

The Banora White tree and the grave beneath it are intact, as is the mansion. The ground around the area, however, is so torn up that it's almost unrecognizable as the relatively flat clearing that it once was.

The lilies are undisturbed.

I may age, and I may gain responsibilities, and things may happen in the future, but I know one thing for certain.

I'll never forget.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**Don't own anybody but the OCs. Meaning this version of Griever and Fenrir, too._

_And thus passes the glory of SOLDIER. That's all I can say right now, except "Phew! That was a long. Freaking. Chapter." Over 10,000 words, guys! I hope you made it this far._

_I didn't know what, exactly, I wanted to do with this scene, at first. It was originally going to have Cloud first talking when he sees Tifa after the battle, but then it evolved into this monster. I WILL eventually (hopefully) be posting a storyline involving Angeal and Terra, but not right now. Right now, I'm trying to keep up with writing this one as well as that one, and it's tough because finals are upon me and I'm losing my mind to the Christmastime madness that comes with December._

_And my cousin just turned 21. Happy birthday, Tori!_

_A big thank you goes to **Misakiii-Chocolate-Chan** and **Calenlass Greenleaf1 **for your reviews of last chapter! I hope you guys liked this one- it's probably my favorite chapter in here aside from the scene where they rescue Cloud from the lab. I know this one's long-winded, too, so I hope you didn't get lost. ^^_

_I'm sleep-deprived, so I'm going to bed, now. Goodnight, minna-san!_

_Next chapter will be posted 12-10-09._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	6. Withdrawal

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 6: Withdrawal._**

* * *

_"Death is not the worst that can happen to men."  
--Plato_

* * *

It takes about three weeks before the addition to the bar is finished. Basically, we've added on a den and a mudroom, and above those are the two new bedrooms. Sephiroth and Zack share one of those, and the other will eventually be used for Rinoa and Aerith when they've grown up a bit. Right now, they're still sleeping in either Tifa's room or my room, depending on which of us has more energy at the end of the day.

It's about three in the morning when I'm woken up by a crash of thunder and a child's wail.

I sigh tiredly and roll out of my bed, crossing the room to the crib.

Aerith's bright green eyes stare at me calmly, unafraid. Rinoa's still dead to the world- she can sleep like a log when she wants to. So, who...?

Another roar of thunder causes the bar to shake. A second later, a tiny form comes barreling into my room, silver hair flying in his haste. He tackles my knees in a heartbeat, burying his face in the cloth of my pajama pants.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I kneel slowly and pry Sephiroth's arms away from me, holding him at arms' length as I study his expression.

His eyes are big and watery, his lower lip is trembling, and his skin is paler than usual. He flinches and moans when another flash of lightning briefly brightens the room.

Sephiroth's scared. He's really _scared_.

I can relate.

I nod slightly to him, and then put my arms around him awkwardly, allowing him to cling to my t-shirt.

"Cloud," he whispers. It still disconcerts me, sometimes, how eloquent he is, but I'm not really surprised.

I shush him gently.

"It'll be alright, Seph," I tell him. I still can't speak much louder than a murmur, but I'm getting better.

There's a second of silence. He flinches again when another flash of lightning drives back the darkness around us.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" he asks softly. I nod, and gingerly pick him up, moving back over to my bed. After I sit down on it, twitching the covers across my legs again, he curls up in my lap, hiding his face in my shirt.

He's trembling.

I'm briefly at a loss as to what to do. Denzel was never afraid of thunder, not after living in the Midgar slums and seeing Meteor almost fall, not to mention the Geostigma. There were always other things that scared him more than storms did. And Tifa was always there to comfort him when something frightened him.

That thought is what turns out to be my salvation, in a way.

I remember that when Denzel's Geostigma would flare up, Tifa used to sit with him, rocking him slightly and running her hand through his hair or up and down his back. It always seemed to comfort him.

I decide to try that with Sephiroth.

I don't rock him back and forth, but I do start to gently rub his back in a rhythmic motion. Gradually, his tremors stop, and he soon grows heavy in my arms as his breathing evens out. I know that he's asleep when he subconsciously puts his thumb in his mouth.

For a long moment, I simply watch him.

It has never really hit me, before, exactly how innocent Sephiroth now is. With the way he talks, and with his mature disposition, it's sometimes hard to remember that he's only been revived for about three years, and that he really does possess the naïveté that is only natural at this age.

Finally, I sigh, and relax back against my headboard. I'm actually comfortable in the position I'm sitting in right now, and I don't want to wake Sephiroth up by moving.

It turns out that it's a good thing I don't try to shift, after all.

This is because only a few minutes pass before the door to my room opens again, quietly, and a pair of slitted, dark-blue, slightly-glowing eyes peer around the door frame, accompanied by a mess of spiky black hair. I look over questioningly, and then I beckon silently for Zack to come in. He does, and then a second later he's sitting on the bed next to me, curled into my side. I can feel him shaking slightly, but I don't think it's from fear of the thunder.

It's with some hesitance that I put my left arm around his shoulders, keeping Sephiroth still using my right one.

"What's the matter?" I ask softly. I feel Zack flinch, but it seems more like he's crying. The side of my shirt is becoming damp.

He mumbles something that I can't make out. I gently squeeze his shoulder.

"I didn't catch that," I admit. I try to make my voice inviting, trying to get him to talk.

A second of silence passes.

Then he lifts his head out of my side and looks at me with teary, heartbroken eyes.

"I miss my mom," he chokes out.

My throat constricts almost painfully, and I pull him back against my side as he breaks down again. I knew that it would be hard for him to adjust, but seeing it is another thing entirely.

"I know," I tell him quietly. "I know exactly how you feel."

And Zack just cries.

His honest pain makes me think of my mother, something I haven't done in a while. It's times like these when I really miss her. My lips twitch downward, and I can feel my eyes burning. I take a shaking breath and lean down to rest my cheek against the crown of Zack's head.

"I miss my mom, too," I whisper.

For a while, we just sit like that. Eventually, Zack cries himself to sleep. I'm struck by the notion that this probably isn't the first time he's done so since he came to live with us, but I don't say anything.

Then everything's peaceful again.

At least, it is until another particularly loud boom of thunder shakes the whole bar again. It must've been close by- I think I heard some of the pans rattling in the kitchen downstairs. A few seconds pass. Then the door opens again and Denzel and Marlene trot into the room.

I'm baffled by how popular I seem to have suddenly become.

Then Marlene climbs onto me to snuggle into my chest, and Denzel clambers onto my bed to make himself comfortable against my other side.

What _am_ I, a freaking communal teddy bear?

But I have to laugh about it, really. I'm one of the strongest people on the planet, and I've been reduced to the role of security blanket. Yay for me.

_'Yes, but you do it so well,'_ Griever comments in the back of my mind. I scowl.

Who asked you?

_'Griever has a point.' _Great. Now Fenrir's putting in his own two cents. _'You are a very protective person, which makes for the best kind of Alpha. These children trust you implicitly because they know that you'll take care of them.'_

I sigh.

Please, just don't say anything more. Please.

_'Zack wants me to tell you that Aerith is feeling lonely,' _Griever snickers. I groan mentally. There's no way I'll be able to get up without waking up all four of the kids who've piled themselves on top of and around me.

Sigh.

I didn't want to shift Sephiroth and Marlene, but it looks like I'll have to, since I can hear Aerith starting to fuss in the crib.

Moving Marlene and Sephiroth is like trying to skin a rabbit with my Ultima Weapon. And trust me, that is _not_ easy to do. I've tried it before. Not pretty.

But I still manage to get Marlene and Sephiroth moved without waking them, which is a miracle if I ever knew one. When I finally manage to clamber out of bed (I have to climb off over the foot of it), I head over to the crib. By this time, Rinoa's starting to wake up, too, and I know that she, at least, will be hungry. I don't speak as I bend down to pick up first Rinoa, and then Aerith.

Then I head downstairs.

I don't know how, exactly, I get to the kitchen, but I set Aerith down in the high chair next to the table while I pull a bottle of milk out of the refrigerator and start heating a pan of water on the stove. When I can see some steam rising off of it, I take it off the burner and plunk the bottle into it to heat the milk. It only takes a minute or two before it's warm enough to feed Rinoa, though not too hot. Still, I check the temperature by dabbing a drop or two on the inside of my wrist.

Just right.

And it's a good thing, too, since she's really hungry.

I find myself sitting across the table from Aerith, blinking sleepily while Rinoa drinks her milk where she's cradled in my arms. I find my mind wandering in the silence that follows.

"So," I say casually to Aerith after a minute. "Did the thunder wake you up?"

I don't really expect an answer. Therefore, it surprises me quite a bit when she nods an affirmative. I sit up a little straighter.

"Can you talk?" I ask, intrigued. Aerith coos in reply, shaking her head. I smile faintly.

"But you can answer yes-or-no questions," I deduce. Yes, I'm just that brilliant.

She nods. I sigh silently. There's another few minutes of peace that pass.

"Do you think I'll be able to get back into my bed when I'm done feeding Rinoa?" I ask with some humor. She gives me a grin that seems somewhat wry as well as a childish giggle, and flails her little arms in what seems like a shrug. Then she shakes her head 'no'.

I briefly raise one eyebrow. "Gee, a great lot of help _you_ are."

She giggles again, clearly amused.

There're another few seconds of silence. I judge that Rinoa probably needs to be burped, so I take the bottle away and set it down on the table before propping her against my shoulder and gently-but-firmly beginning to pat her on the back. She begins to protest after a few pats, but then a big burp erupts from her and she coos with relief. I feel something warm and wet dribble down my back, and grimace.

Spit-up. Eeeew.

_'Big baby,'_ Griever snickers. I feel my eye twitch.

Crazy cat.

_'Hey, I resemble that,' _he retorts, but it's not without amusement. A questioning sound from Aerith draws my attention back to the present, and I find her looking at me curiously as I draw Rinoa into my arms again so that she can finish her bottle.

"You know," I begin quietly, thoughtfully. Aerith pays rapt attention. "There's something I haven't been able to explain to Tifa, something that changed while I was held captive. I need a little advice on how I should tell her."

Aerith looks at me with some wariness, clearly wondering _what,_ exactly, I'm about to tell her.

I purse my lips. "During the first part of the experimentation process," I begin with some difficulty. "Hojo made sure to weigh my organs, run all sorts of tests, the usual, right?"

She seems somewhat repulsed, but she nods, doubtless knowing how difficult it is for me to speak of this. I bite my bottom lip.

"When he was done with that, he-" I swallow, the memory flashing in front of my eyes. "He implanted two summon Materia into me. Then he dumped me into a Mako tank. The Materia were absorbed by my body, if that makes any sense."

She nods again, and I can see that she knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"Like what Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz did during the Advent Crisis," I clarify, just to be sure. She nods again. "Well, the thing is, I can talk to the summons at will. And I don't know how to tell that to Tifa."

Aerith's eyebrows shoot up and her bow-shaped lips part in a surprised exclamation. She claps her hands together without any finesse at all. The scene is just too cute for me to keep a straight face. I chuckle, glancing down at Rinoa to see that she's finished the bottle and is getting drowsy again. Sighing, I set the empty bottle on the table and prop her against my shoulder again.

She doesn't spit up all over me, this time, but my three-month-old daughter somehow manages to drool all over my neck after she burps. It's one of those _delightful_ open-mouthed, toothless kisses that only babies her age are able to manage. Yes, can't you just hear the sarcasm dripping from my voice?

Sigh.

I'm tired.

_'You're right,'_ says a disembodied voice from somewhere behind me. It's masculine, deep, amused. _'He **is** amusing when he's sleep-deprived.'_

I whip around to see who's talking, but don't see anything save for a few pyreflies.

_'Told you so.'_ This time, the voice is one that I've sorely missed, so much so that I briefly begin to question my sanity.

"...Zack?" I whisper into the otherwise still air.

There's a second of silence.

_'Yo, spike!'_ Zack's sounding awfully jovial for this time of night. _'I didn't know you could hear us!'_

I feel my eyebrow begin to twitch.

"Frankly, I didn't, either," I grouse, and then turn to Aerith accusingly. "Did you know he was there the whole time?"

She laughs at me and sticks her tongue out before nodding and beginning to blow spit bubbles contentedly. I groan softly and sigh, my shoulders slumping.

I'm sleep-deprived, I have a bed full of little kids- who, might I add, I do _not_ want to wake up- and I have baby puke all down the back of my shirt. I do _not_ need a couple of spirits spying on me for early-morning kicks.

"Okay, Cloud, you're just hallucinating from the sleep-deprivation and the Mako withdrawal, again," I coach myself quietly. "Just get yourself cleaned up and go back to bed. Things'll be better in the morning."

But I know that things _won't_ be better in the morning.

_'Hey, Spike.'_ It's Zack again.

"What do you want?" I moan softly. I can feel my eyelids beginning to droop again, and my body is starting to ache and shake from the withdrawal. Really, one would think that I'd have gotten past it by now, but _no, _my body is still suffering the withdrawal symptoms every time I let my concentration relax for more than a second. For the most part, I'm able to hide it from Tifa and the others, but the tremors have gotten worse, lately. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep it to myself.

There's a second of silence. Zack sounds slightly insulted when he next speaks.

_'Well, I wanted to introduce you to somebody, but if now's a bad time...'_

I can feel my breath growing short. The pain is beginning to build, starting at the base of my skull and spreading to the rest of my body. I know that first my arms will start to hurt, and then my guts, and then my legs all the way down to my toes. It'll start out as pins and needles, and then those will turn to hot knives, and if I'm not unconscious when that happens, I'll probably start writhing or convulsing.

I get to my feet with something of a struggle, my hands spasming slightly before I calm them through sheer force of will, at which time I pick Aerith up with a gasp of discomfort as a twinge shoots down my spine. I can sense Aerith's worry, and I glance over at her while sweat beads upon my brow.

"This is our secret, okay?" I murmur to her through gritted teeth. Then I turn to make my way back upstairs.

"Zack," I hiss. My abdomen spasms and a knife spears through my head. I _have _to stay awake, long enough to get Aerith and Rinoa safely in their crib. "Zack, keep talking."

_'Okay, buddy,' _he replies. I can hear the solemnity in his voice- he's realized the gravity of my situation.

"What were you going to say earlier?" I'm staggering up the stairs, now, placing each foot with care and finding my center of balance before raising myself up. My vision is beginning to skew a little.

_'This is Angeal,'_ Zack says. I can tell he's trying to keep his tone light, and I'm grateful to him because it gives me some hope. _'He was my mentor who I told you about, remember?'_

I grunt, then silence my heavy breathing as I open my bedroom door.

"I remember him very well," I whisper, carefully heading over to the crib. I stumble briefly as a pang knifes through my forehead, but I catch myself before we go down. "He attacked me and Tseng in Modeoheim. Then you killed him."

There's a moment's silence while I settle first Aerith, and then Rinoa, into the crib. I tuck Aerith's blanket around her, make sure that Rinoa's comfortable, and then I press my finger to my lips.

"Go to sleep, Aerith," I murmur to her, hoping that the agony that's burning through me isn't clear in my voice. "I'll be fine, don't worry. I'm just going to clean up and change my shirt, and then I'll go back to sleep, I promise."

She looks at me accusingly, but her eyelids are drooping nonetheless.

_'Don't worry, Aer,' _Zack says, and a pyrefly drifts close to brush against her cheek, a lover's caress. _'We'll make sure he's okay. We'll even wake Tifa up if we have to, and you know how that'll end.'_

I would retort if my head wasn't aching so badly.

Regardless, Aerith drifts off to sleep with that reassurance, and I know that I can trust their care to the spirits in the room for a few moments at least.

I grab my sweater from where it's hanging on the back of my chair from where I tossed it there earlier, and then I head for the bathroom. I trip on the way out, just barely managing to catch myself before I hit the doorway.

_'Cloud.'_ The voice from earlier is back.

"Angeal?" I question with a soft groan, stumbling into the bathroom. My hands are shaking so bad that I'm in danger of dropping my sweater. My breath is coming in quick gasps, and I can barely see straight because the spasms are so bad.

My hip collides painfully with the edge of the sink.

"Fuck!" I swear softly, gritting my teeth. Another bolt of agony shoots down my back, and I convulse briefly before catching myself on the sink, my hands clenching involuntarily while I try to support myself against the hard surface.

_'Cloud, you need help.' _It's Angeal again. I take a couple of difficult breaths.

"I need Mako," I hiss. "At l-least, that's what m-my b-b-body... is t-telling me."

I struggle to hold back a groan as firebrands lash at my insides.

It feels like I have Geostigma, again.

It takes all the energy I can muster to remember that I need to get cleaned up and changed, and I manage to strip my messy shirt off and toss it in the hamper before a particularly intense tide of pain wells up in my muscles. I can do little more than ride it out, clinging tightly to the sink. I think I can hear Zack saying something to me over the ringing in my ears, but I'm unsure of whether it's him or somebody else. Maybe I woke up Vincent? Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised. I don't think he even sleeps, really.

When it finally passes, I swallow. I still feel like I'm about ready to collapse from the pain, but it's not faint-worthy, anymore. I take the lull for what it is and quickly scrub my neck and shoulder off with a washcloth before I slip my sweater on, leaving it unzipped to the base of my throat. I manage to chuck the washcloth over the shower bar before the pain hits again, this time intense enough that I stagger and collide heavily with the wall.

_'Cloud, you need help!'_ Zack's frantic voice breaks through the haze I'm submerged in, and I blink sweat out of my eyes before I shake my head determinedly.

"Don't," I stammer. My speech is impeded by the tremors. If I try to talk much more, there's a strong possibility that I might bite through my tongue and bleed to death.

_'I'm getting Tifa.'_ It's Angeal, this time.

"N-No!" I wheeze. "N-Not T-Tifa. D-Don't w-w-worry h-her." I stagger out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom, where I slump into my desk chair, gripping my arms and curling in on myself. My forehead hits the wood of my desk with a quiet thud.

I feel cold. Which is funny, since my body feels like it's burning, too.

"S-She c-can't-t h-help, an-nyw-way," I stutter, keeping my voice down so that I don't wake the kids or the babies. "T-There's n-nothing t-that c-c-can h-help m-me, n-now."

Then I can't hear anything more as the pain reaches a crescendo. My head feels like it's about to split in two. I only distantly register the fact that I've fallen out of my chair. I can feel something trickling down my face over my lips and chin. Is my nose bleeding?

I manage to open my eyes briefly.

I see Zack leaning over me, looking blatantly worried. A burly SOLDIER First Class in full uniformed regalia is dashing out my door, the Buster Sword strapped to his back with a magnetic harness.

_'Hold on, Cloud!'_ Zack says. I read his lips more than I hear him. _'Hold on! Cloud, listen to me! Hold on! Hold on...'_

And then everything goes black.

* * *

_...Warrior..._

...Who...?

_...Warrior, awake..._

No... It's nice, here... No pain.

A giggle.

_But you must wake. He's ready to perform CPR on you._

....Who? _What?!_

My eyes fly open, and my arms automatically jolt up in self-defense, pushing as hard as I can against what seems to be a rock-hard chest. A loud "Oof!" meets my ears.

Then my head spins, and I groan faintly.

"Hey, he's awake!"

I briefly close my eyes in an attempt to get my center back. Once the dizzy spell passes, I open my eyes once more and take a look around.

...Where the _hell_ am I?

I find myself lying on my back in a puddle of water and Mako, surrounded by white and green, looking up at a cloudy sky. There's a young face hovering over me off to my right, framed by hair the color of the sun; his sky-blue eyes are twinkling at me as he grins in a roguish manner.

"Hey," he greets me. I blink, recognizing the voice from earlier. "Welcome back to the land of the living, stranger!"

He has a funny accent. Kind of like a mix of Kalm and Midgar dialect with a hint of Mideel somewhere in there.

I close my eyes again in an attempt to reorient myself. Then I take a deep breath and slowly struggle into a sitting position.

Ouch. Pain.

My whole body's aching, the aftereffects of the Mako withdrawal attack that I experienced before I blacked out...

Wait.

Where am I? Where are the kids? Tifa?

"Where-?" I croak. Then my voice breaks, and I cough, grimacing. My guts ache more than before.

Groan.

"Hey, you okay?" I crack open my eyes again and find that the question isn't directed toward me. Instead, the boy is looking over to my left, where another young man is getting to his feet, looking with distaste at the water that is now saturating his outfit.

He has brown hair a few shades darker than Denzel's, as well as a pair of piercing, grey-blue eyes. A scar runs diagonally over the bridge of his nose toward his right cheek. He gazes stoically at me, his features neutral, but his stare carries recognition, curiosity, and some indignation.

A twinge of recognition shoots through me, and a dim memory floats through my head.

_A man stepped forward out of the haze; he seemed to be the leader of the group... His features were blank, displaying no emotion, but his eyes were expressive though he seemed to try to hide it. They showed his curiosity and detached horror._

_I felt myself weakly reach out to them._

_My fingertips touched the glass... the way that the pain was dulled told me that either I'd lost most of the sensation in my body, or I'd had them in there for so long that I'd grown accustomed to it._

_...A single thought floated through the fog of my mind._

_They didn't belong there._

"_Go back..."_

_Bubbles floated toward the top of the Mako tank..._

"_Get out of here..."_

_My words were garbled, unintelligible..._

"_Before Hojo comes..."_

_My arm lost what little energy I'd been able to give it, and my fingers slid smoothly down the glass to rest back at my side..._

_The last thing I registered before blacking out once more was that the Mako was draining._

I shake my head slightly, clearing my thoughts, as the young man replies to the question.

"I'm fine," he says. "But I'm all wet."

I say nothing. There's nothing to say.

...Ugh, I feel like crap.

"Perhaps I can help with that." The voice is sweet, smooth, feminine. I look up again, over my shoulder. A tall woman, dressed all in white, is walking toward me.

She is positively radiant.

Truthfully, I don't think I've ever seen a purer image of sheer _light_ and _goodness_. At least, not with my own two eyes. She has golden hair spun from the brightest sunlight, blue eyes that nearly glow with kindness, and skin pale as moonlight. She's smiling at me.

...Ye gad, I'm waxing poetic.

But another flash of pain goes through my body at that instant, and I hiss, curling in on myself, one arm clutching my belly while my other hand clenches in the black fabric of my pants.

Agh! Shit, this hurts!

"Whoa! His eyes are glowing! Cool!" It's the first voice, again, belonging to the blond kid.

"Unfortunately, Zidane, he is in a great deal of pain, as well," says the woman. A cool touch lands on the back of my neck, and after a second, the agony fades to a dull ache. I slump forward slightly, exhausted, breathing heavily.

"T-Thanks," I croak out, and then I cough again. My throat is parched.

"What was that about?"

It's another new voice, female, somewhat naïve-sounding. It's something that I usually hear from the mouths of my kids. Probably Denzel or Zack or Marlene. Maybe Sephiroth.

I don't even bother to look up. The beautiful woman keeps her hand on my shoulder. Doubtless, her powers are the only thing holding the withdrawal at bay. I wonder briefly if she's part of the Lifestream; then I brush it off.

"Mako withdrawal," I rasp after a moment. There's a second of silence. Then...

"...What?" It's the brown-haired man, again.

"What's Mako?" asks the girl.

"Is it fun to play with?" queries the blond boy.

I freeze for a long second, and then I look up at them with disquiet rolling in my gut.

"...Where've you been holed up for the past forty or so years?" I ask incredulously. It's getting easier to talk, now, though I still can't raise my voice much.

They exchange glances.

"Cloud." I stiffen. It's the pretty woman, again. How does she know my name?

"I know your name because I have called you here," she says as I peer over my shoulder at her. "You are all from different worlds, or at least, from different time periods. They have never heard of Mako, and they know nothing of your battles and suffering, just as you know nothing of theirs."

I drop my gaze, thinking. Different time periods...? Different worlds...? It's a lot to take in.

"Where am I?" I ask softly. "Am I dead?" If I am, I don't think I'm surprised. That last attack was the worst I've ever experienced, and considering that I actually _saw _Zack and Angeal before I blacked out...

Like I said, I don't think anything would surprise me right now.

"You are in a different world," she answers. "My world. I am Cosmos, the goddess of harmony."

A goddess, huh? Well, that explains a lot.

"I have called you here because your world had begun to break up," she continues. "I need your help if we are to restore balance to it."

A twinge of alarm zings through me. My heart starts to pound, and my mouth goes drier than it already was. I spin to look at Cosmos.

"What about my family and friends?" I ask, trying to fight down my panic. "Are Tifa and the kids okay?"

She nods. "Your world's time has been stopped until the battles are done. If you help to save this world, you will be helping to save your own world, as well."

My breathing is still tightly controlled as I turn back forward. Though I'm greatly relieved that Tifa and the kids are safe, I'm still having some difficulty wrapping my mind around the notion that I've just been pulled out of my life in order to fight for a world not my own.

It's... a little disorienting.

I mean, wouldn't you be a little stunned if you, expecting to have died, woke up in a strange place surrounded by strange people who're telling you that you have to fight their battles for them?

I...

...I...

...I really just want to go home, right now.

I just want to see Tifa and Rinoa, Denzel, Marlene, Zack, Sephiroth, and Aerith again, know they're safe, that I didn't wake anybody up with my withdrawal fit. I want to hold my daughter again, kiss Tifa on the forehead, let them know that I'm alright, that I'm alive.

This is going to be really, _really_ tough.

"Cloud." It's Cosmos, again. "I can help you with your withdrawal, if it will make things easier for you."

I grit my teeth as the remark stings what little pride I have left, and I nearly turn down her offer. However, the memory of that last debilitating attack flashes through my mind, and I shudder faintly before I actually stop and consider the proposal.

"...You want me to fight your battles for you," I state quietly, but it's more of a question. "You want me to shed more of my blood for a cause that really has very little to do with me, and you've taken me away from my family and friends to do so."

I clench my fists in the fabric of my pants.

"And you took me from them right after I passed out from a withdrawal attack," I continue, my voice rising as my exasperation grows. "They're getting _Tifa, _for God's sake, or at least Angeal was. And believe me, that means that I probably just almost _died,_ considering that I was seeing _dead people._ And you're _offering_ to supposedly _cure me?_"

Cosmos replies with a simple "Yes," while I get a couple of weird looks from the blond boy and the girl.

I sigh. "This sounds too good to last. Is it permanent?"

Cosmos gives another affirmative. I swallow, a sudden thought hitting me.

"What'll happen, exactly?"

"I'm simply going to stabilize your body's energy balance." Her voice is calm, reassuring. "Right now, the Mako energy that you've been infused with is skewing wildly out of control, and this is only getting worse by the day."

I blink, understanding dawning. "So that's why the attacks have been getting worse?"

Cosmos hums. "Yes. You have so much Mako energy housed in your body that your body cannot control it all. It amplifies your physical abilities, and it will also put more force into any spells you cast, but at the same time, the overabundance of energy damages its host, which is you."

Another memory flashes through my head, of the Cura spell I accidentally cast on myself the day Rinoa was born.

"I think I know exactly what you mean," I mumble. She laughs softly.

I grunt in pain as another flare zings through me. It hurts like a bitch.

"What I'm going to do is allow you to control your energy at least a little better," she continues once I can concentrate on her again.

There's a strange lack of commentary from the back of my mind, and I realize, with a start, that my two summons have suspiciously gone missing.

"What about Fenrir and Griever? Where are they?"

I see the brown-haired young man stiffen slightly out of the corner of my eye, but I pay him no mind. Cosmos' aura radiates some sadness.

"They have been separated from you," she says. "It likely occurred during the transfer to this world. You will probably find them again as you journey."

I hum shortly in affirmation.

Cosmos squeezes my shoulder. "Brace yourself."

That's all the warning I get before excruciating pain erupts through my body. I think that I've got my back arched and am screaming, and I can feel my arms going rigid as an inferno blazes from my fingertips up my arms, and into my shoulders, spreading into my torso before the process repeats itself in my legs.

_OH-GOD-IT-HURTS-I-WANT-TO-DIE-PLEASE-MAKE-IT-STOP-MAKE-IT-STOP-MAKEIT**STOP-**_

But it only gets worse.

I think I'm still screaming, but I can't be sure because my ears are ringing and I can't see past the whiteness of the pain and-

_OH-GOD-PLEASE-KILL-ME!_

And then the pain becomes even more intense, and _how can it **get** any worse?!_

But I'm not even allowed the release of oblivion, though I'm about to go mad from the pain, because every nerve in my body is alight with agony and-

_**OH-GOD-PLEASE-MAKE-IT-STOP!! PLEASE!!**_

A flare in the pain makes me think that I've probably spontaneously combusted, but then, suddenly, it's all gone. Everything. I can sense that I'm breathing- at least, I think I am- but my head's still pounding and I can't feel much of anything else. There's a cool sensation on my forehead and against my back and arms.

_Cloud..._

...Whose voice is that...?

It's hard to think straight and I'm starting to regain feeling in my limbs and I _ache _all over, all the way down to the marrow of my bones. I think I'm shaking, and as my nerves come back to life slowly, I'm aware of the fact that my chest is heaving and my throat is more sore than the rest of my body. There's a warm hand on my right shoulder, and on my other shoulder is Cosmos' hand. I recognize it because her power makes my skin tingle.

_Cloud. Open your eyes._

And so I do, with some difficulty. Because following orders is just as second-nature to me as giving them is.

To my right, the brown-haired young man from earlier is pressing down on my shoulder, some worry in his otherwise disinterested gaze. He looks paler than he did when last I saw him. Cosmos is holding me down on my left. She's the one who was speaking into my mind.

"You have awakened again," she states with a small smile. I close my eyes for a long second before looking up at her, exhaustion making my head and body throb.

"Did it... Did it work?" I query. My voice is soft and almost non-existent, but I manage to get the message across nonetheless, and she nods.

"Yes," she replies vocally. "I contained the Mako to your torso and head. You should be able to call upon it as you will."

I shut my eyes again.

"That bloody hurt," I grumble, and then cough, tasting copper. I must've broken my voice from the screaming. Cosmos touches her fingertips to my neck; the pain fades instantly, but I'm still utterly spent.

"Sleep for now," she tells me. "When you awake, there will be some clean clothes for you to wear, and a weapon for you to use."

I can't fight it, and the next thing I know, I'm deep in dreamland.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**I don't own Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, or any affiliated characters or works._

_Ah, and now we get into the portion of the story that I'm struggling to churn out whilst preparing for finals. Ick. This means that, unfortunately, there might not be an update for a week or two. I'm sorry, but finals have to come first. I know, it totally sucks. **PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME!**_

_I have two more words to add about this chapter: POOR CLOUD. *dodges flying Buster Sword and runs away from angry Cloud*_

_**Cloud:** What the **fuck,** Scribe?! You just made me kill one of the people I looked up to, and now you've got me **separated from my family?!** **DIE, BITCH!**_

_Yikes! *dodges again and heads for the hills, laptop tucked under arm* And I'm not a bitch! You are!_

_**Cloud:** Oh, you SO **DIDN'T** just say that!! *chases after Scribe, waving Buster Sword angrily*_

_**Sephiroth:***SWEATDROP* ...So childish._

_*types one-handed while in process of fleeing for dear life*_

_A huge thank you goes out to those of you who reviewed the last chapter: **Misakiii-Chocolate-Chan**, and also to **Tani2**, who reviewed both chapters 4 and 5. You guys are awesome, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter so much! And I'm sorry to Misakiii, but you won't find out much more about Sephiroth's character until after this arc is over. I'm sorry! But this one should end in, at maximum, 5 chapters. Probably sooner. For right now, you might just have to make due with the seemingly random plot-twists that I'm going to provide. ^^_

_By the way, to anybody who's interested, I'm thinking about posting a Christmas special for this fic. It'll probably be posted separately, so keep an eye out for it! Oh! And please say a prayer for me- I think Cloud's going to kill me, soon! And pray that I'm able to type up the next chapter in a timely manner, too? Thanks!_

_BYYYYYYEEEEE~!_

_Next chapter will (hopefully) be posted 12-15-09._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	7. Memories

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 7: Memories._**

* * *

_"Just as courage imperils life, fear protects it."  
--Leonardo da Vinci_

* * *

It's been almost five weeks since I was brought to Cosmos' world. Since then, I've had the time to get to know my companions. You probably don't know who I'm referring to, so I'll try to describe them as best I can.

The first is the man known as the Warrior of Light.

He has ice-blue eyes and pale blond hair, but you can't really tell it because he wears a close helmet at all times. He also wears heavy, archaic armor that's dark blue in color, and a functional cape hangs from his shoulders. He fights using an old-fashioned sword and shield combination, and he's skilled in most areas of combat. As to his personality, he's very noble, and always willing to help the rest of us whenever he can. He has very few memories, however- the trip to this world seems to have given him a case of amnesia. The Warrior of Light doesn't even remember his name, let alone his goals, destination, or even his motivations for fighting.

It's sad, really. Reminds me a little of myself.

The second of my companions goes by the name of Firion.

He's tall, with silver hair, most of which he keeps concealed beneath a colorful bandanna. He, like the Warrior of Light, has blue eyes and wears heavy armor. He's a weapons specialist, able to effectively use many different types of armaments and easily interchange them during battle. He's got a strong sense of duty, and he's a little hot-blooded. Definitely not a recluse, unlike some people I know.

Cough, cough, _Squall,_ cough cough.

Ahem.

Onion Knight is the third of my new comrades.

He's highly intelligent for his age (probably about fourteen or so), and is knowledgeable in many schools of fighting. He likes to use his brain instead of brawn while engaged in conflict. He has wheat-blond hair and pale blue eyes, and he wears heavy red armor and a yellow cape. He won't tell us his real name, only that "Onion Knight" is actually just a title. He seems to think that he can do absolutely anything he sets his mind to.

Personally, I just think he comes across as arrogant at times. But he's got a good heart.

Next is a man by the name of Cecil Harvey.

One could say that he's a split soul. If you catch him in a bad mood, he wears full body armor that is dark purple (almost black) in color, and he's fond of using a sword. But if he's in a good mood, he wears silver-white armor (with purple accents, of course), sans helmet. It's then that you can see what his face really looks like. He has long, silver hair and violet eyes. His face seems somewhat feminine, in a way, but it's offset by the determined glint that constantly lights them. He's kind-hearted, gentle, and humble towards everyone around him. A nice guy, to be sure. Not that they all aren't- there're just some that are more sociable than others.

Not that I'm one to talk, of course, but anyway...

The fifth member of our group is Bartz Klauser.

He's got short brown hair and grey eyes. He wears minimal armor, but what armor he has is as elaborate as it is functional. He fights using a long sword. But that isn't what his special ability is. Bartz is able to mimic the abilities of those around him, and one of his favorite moves to "borrow" seems to be Onion Knight's "Wind Shear". Bartz also seems to like my Climhazzard move. He's a cheerful guy, though, and he seems to be unable to ignore people who're in trouble. He also has a sense of justice that's as strong as he is free-spirited and- dare I say it?- _spunky._

Ick. I think I need to wash my mind out.

The only female member of our company is Terra Branford.

Now, please keep in mind, I've known one person named "Terra", before. And this Terra is only a little like the Terra I knew. This Terra has pale blond hair and cerulean-blue eyes. She's skilled in many areas of combat, but her specialty is magic, something she says stems from her heritage. Apparently, she's half-Esper (or something like that), which means that she's practically the illegitimate love-child of Shiva and a mortal man. Or was it Ramuh and a mortal woman? Anyway, she's pretty naïve, though she's really nice. She reminds me a lot of Aerith.

As long as she doesn't start talking to plants, I think I'll be okay. Really.

Next is Squall Leonhart.

I've already described him before, but I guess I'll do it again. Squall is the brown-haired young man with the piercing grey-blue eyes who I recognize from my time as Hojo's lab rat. You know what I'm talking about, right? Right. Well, anyway, he wears a lot of black leather, and he fights with a wicked sword called a gunblade. Its hilt is shaped like a revolver (from which it derives its name), and then it melds into a sword. When he connects with a hit, he pulls the trigger on the handle, sending a shock-wave through the blade, which maximizes the damage done.

...Personality? Well, let's just say that you'd have more luck talking to a wall. He's cold and taciturn, and seems to be incredibly stubborn. Whatever the case, he's also really strong, and he's a spectacular fighter. I'm glad we're on the same side.

Zidane Tribal is the next.

He's a thief by trade, with a lot of energy and a sharp wit, usually cheerful and waggish. He, like everyone, has his bouts of despair, but he usually manages to move past those pretty quickly. And he's really awkward around Terra, for some reason. He has blond hair that's darker than mine is, the color of the purest of gold. I don't know how else to describe it. And he has sapphire-blue eyes that're always dancing. He wears clothing that one would think typical of a thief: lightweight, nonrestrictive, with a lot of pockets for hiding things in. He fights using a pair of twin daggers that resemble Terra Jerrel's to a startling degree- he can even lock them together by their pommels when he wants to deal out some extra damage.

Did I mention that he has a prehensile tail? It's really cool.

Last is a young man named Tidus.

He has dishwater-blond hair, sapphire eyes, and a cheerful disposition. His clothes are completely waterproof, something that's reflected in his greatsword, which resembles water down to the bubbles that're trapped in the blade. He's light-hearted and is able to calm others even in the most trying of times. He also apparently plays a sport called "Blitzball", a high-energy equivalent of soccer that's played underwater. From what he describes, it seems like it's a brutal sport.

In a way, he reminds me of Tifa, just with his optimistic personality.

And rounding out the group, of course, is me. And you don't want to hear about me any more than you already have, I'm sure.

It seems like I was the last to be brought here. If there's one thing that's for certain, it's that they all saw what happened when Cosmos sealed the Mako in my body, as well as the subsequent fainting spell. I've been told that it wasn't pretty. Zidane, one of the most talkative of our group, tells me that it was actually fairly scary, and that he never wants to go to my world if everybody is like I am. Needless to say, I was quick to reassure him that I'm the exception, not the norm.

But I digress.

I'm currently standing next to the place where Cosmos usually sits. I've been restless for the past two days- my gut insticts are screaming at me that something's going to happen soon. And I'm pretty sure that when something does happen, it's going to be something that I'm going to hate.

I wordlessly finger the hilt of the Buster Sword where it's harnessed on my back.

The others were skeptical when they first saw the sword after Cosmos brought it here for me. It had been restored from its former rusted state, but its size compared to mine became the butt of more than a few jokes from Zidane and Tidus. Needless to say, those jokes stopped the moment I picked the sword up with one hand to sling it onto the magnetic harness on my back.

After that, the group was just stunned dumb for a long moment or three.

Cosmos also brought me my usual outfit- the black one that I normally wear nowadays, with the Fenrir motif on the shoulder guard. She also brought me First Tsurugi, which I keep harnessed and safe when I'm not using it. Right now, I'm wearing my old, modified SOLDIER First Class uniform that I was fond of wearing during the Meteor Crisis.

But again, I digress.

A quiet voice calling my name from my right draws me out of my musings, and I look over to see Squall approaching me. We're apart from the main body of the group, which he seems grateful for.

"What is it?" I respond, turning to face him. He studies me for a long moment.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" he asks. The sudden question catches me off-guard, and I raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Where from?"

He frowns. "You were in a tank, I think."

Ah. So that's what he's talking about.

"Yes," I reply, nodding slightly. "Yes, you've seen me before, and yes, I was in a tank." I watch his expression for any hint of what he's thinking. "Why do you ask?"

His eyes look distant and slightly haunted. But then again, I'm not a very good judge of other people's facial expressions, so I'm not exactly sure what he's thinking.

He _does_ show some emotion, though, when his brow creases faintly.

"Why were you in a tank?" he asks. I blink, and then raise my eyebrows slightly.

"Why do you ask?" I repeat. Squall averts his gaze. There are a few seconds of terse silence. I can't tell what he's thinking, but I know that if he really wants an answer, he'll talk sometime.

Sure enough, my patience pays off.

"Because we couldn't get you out, and you looked like you were in a lot of pain." His voice is quiet, more so than usual. He seems a little guilty.

I shrug.

"It's okay," I tell him. "You tried, and that's all that matters."

I can see his fist clench out of the corner of my eye. I speak before he can make a comment that'll express his self-guilt. After all, he doesn't need another burden on what seems to be an already heavy conscience.

"I wasn't in there by choice," I begin. "I was captured by a mad scientist, and by the time that you found me, I'd already been in there for some time. It wouldn't have made much difference whether or not you'd been able to get me out of there- I still would've had to recover the same way I did."

I glance at him out of the corners of my eyes, and meet his ice-blue gaze steadily.

"Mako poisoning isn't something that can be readily cured, in any case," I conclude. "You wouldn't've been able to do anything."

His fist relaxes, and I know that I've assuaged his guilt at least a little.

We stand in companionable silence for a long few minutes.

"How can you be so casual about it?" The sudden question catches me off guard, again.

Then again, Squall seems to be in an almost-chatty mood today. Yeesh. The one time he decides to be talkative, he asks me about my captivity? Yeah. Makes for _real_ pleasant conversation.

I sigh, and finally turn to face him, my expression dead-serious.

"Because it's not the first time it's happened," I tell him solemnly. "And because I know that there're people who've had it much worse than I have." I pause. "The company that used to rule over the majority of my world had some really unethical practices going on. It's only been within the past three or four years that things've changed for the better. When you've grown up under that kind of brutality, worked for them, and then been put under their knife, there are things that don't surprise you, anymore."

I turn away and shrug. "Besides, the scientist who experimented on me is dead, now, so what's there to hate?"

Squall doesn't have an answer to that, and I know that he knows that I know it.

"At any rate, I was rescued by my friends soon after, so everything turned out alright, regardless."

It takes a second, but eventually I see him nod slightly.

There's a clanking sound approaching us from behind. I know that it's either Cecil or the Warrior of Light, since they're the only ones out of all of us who wear full-body armor. And I'm guessing, judging by the way that he seems to have a slight limp to his step, that it's the Warrior of Light. He's pretty balanced, but his footsteps are uneven because he's used to counterbalancing his shield.

As it turns out, I'm right.

"Cosmos wishes to speak with all of us," he announces to Squall and me when he's within speaking distance. I turn to face him, nodding once to show my acknowledgement. The rest of them are joining us. I can see Bartz and Zidane rough-housing a bit as they come over. Those two have taken to each other as though they're old friends who haven't seen each other in years.

"Do you know what she wants?" I ask the Warrior of Light. He shakes his head. I study him for a second.

"You know," I say at last. He turns to me with some surprise. "You need a name, whether it's your real one or not. I can't just keep calling you 'Warrior of Light' all the time. It's too big a mouthful, and it's really impersonal."

Terra, joining us, nods her agreement.

"Would you mind terribly if we call you something else?" she asks him politely. The Warrior of Light blinks, confounded by the onslaught of attention and the fact that we want to _name_ him, of all things.

"I," he begins, and then pauses. "I guess so."

Terra smiles at him.

"Well, then, we'll think of a name to call you," she promises. She turns away, pondering, for a long second, and then she looks back at him with a smile on her face. "How about Aren?"

He blinks.

"I... It sounds nice," he replies. Terra grins.

"Great!" she chirps.

I speak up.

"One question."

She nods at me to continue.

"What's it mean?" I ask. She blinks, and then thinks for a moment.

"I think it means 'light'," she replies at last. "I thought it was fitting."

The Warrior of Light smiles, and then bows to Terra in gratitude. "You have my gratitude, Terra, for giving me a name. I'll be Aren henceforth."

Zidane makes an exaggerated sniffling noise.

"It's... so _cute!_" he exclaims. I roll my eyes and turn away from them all, but I'm really slightly amused.

I close my eyes. "I my world, the name Aren means 'protector', but it can also have negative connotations."

I hear Terra turn to me. "Like what?"

I swallow. "It can also mean 'one who kills', 'one who is soulless', or 'one without memories', depending on which dialect you're taking it from."

There are a few seconds of silence.

"How do you know?" asks the Warrior of Light. He seems a little upset. I shrug.

"My daughter was born a few months ago," I reply. "Tifa and I must've looked through fifteen books of names before we found one that would suit a boy. 'Aren' was one of the names that stuck with me."

There are a few more seconds of silence.

"Well, congratulations!" Tidus exclaims after a while, seemingly to break the silence. "What did you end up naming her?"

I look over at him with a faint smile, and dig in my pocket as I reply.

"Rinoa Raine Strife," I tell him. "Rinoa was my mom's middle name, and Raine was Tifa's mom's first name."

My questing fingers find what I was searching for, and I pull out a wrinkled picture of Rinoa, Tifa, Denzel, Marlene, Sephiroth, Aerith, Zack, and me that was taken just after we finished the addition to the bar. Tifa's got an old blue jumper on over her usual black outfit, and she's holding Rinoa's hand up in a waving motion, the ring on her finger glittering in the sunlight. Rinoa's got a big, toothless grin stretched across her face, and her nearly-black hair has a little red bow in it. Her clothes consist of a green dress with long sleeves. She's got socks on, but no shoes.

They're standing in the middle of the picture. To their left is Marlene, who's tickling the bottom of Rinoa's foot. Marlene's wearing a pink dress, and her hair's done up in a braided high-ponytail like Aerith used to wear. On Tifa's other side is Denzel, grinning and waving at the camera. He's wearing his favorite grey outfit that offsets his eyes. He's got his hair swept back from his brow in this shot, though it's just as tousled as normal. He's showing off his Geostigma-free forehead.

Zack is standing next to Marlene, his unruly black hair spiked in a way that strongly resembles Zack Fair. He's dressed in a green t-shirt and khaki shorts, which are smeared with paint. His slitted indigo eyes are locked onto Sephiroth's grinning visage where the silver-haired little boy is perched on Zack's shoulders. That'd been the first time that I'd ever seen Sephiroth grin so genuinely and openly, and it remains one of my favorite photos of him. Sephiroth's outfit is hidden by Zack's head and hair, but I know that he was wearing an orange and blue t-shirt that day with a pair of navy pants and some sneakers that Tifa got for him.

I'm standing off to one side of the photo, dressed in my normal black outfit with First Tsurugi harnessed at my lower back. I have Aerith in my amrs, and she's tugging playfully on a lock of my hair while I'm trying to look disinterested in it (and failing miserably, might I add- it's more than a little distracting to have a kid pulling your hair). She's wearing a pink dress and has a pink bow in her chestnut hair. Her emerald eyes are dancing with mirth, and look much older than they should.

In the background is Seventh Heaven, with Fenrir parked in front of it. Perched on Fenrir are three shades, each of which I recognize easily now that I've seen them.

Zack, Terra, and Angeal. I realize now that they've always watched over us.

I remember that I'd just gotten home for the day when they ambushed us with this picture. I was a little miffed at the time, but I got over it pretty much as soon as I saw it developed.

"Wow!" The exclamation draws me back to the present, and I find Terra ogling the photo with wide eyes. "You have a big family!"

I hum.

"The woman is Tifa, my fiancé," I explain, "and the baby in her arms is Rinoa."

I let her take the picture for closer study.

"Are all these kids yours?" she asks, blinking at it. "Because they don't look like either of you."

I shake my head.

"No way," I say emphatically, making some of the others chuckle. "If they were all ours, we'd have to have started when we were fourteen or fifteen."

She looks up at me, passing the picture along to Tidus, Zidane, and Bartz, who peer at it while gently holding the paper between their gloved fingertips.

"Then do you run an orphanage?" she asks innocently. I shake my head again.

"No," I reply. "Tifa owns and operates a restaurant and bar- that's the building in the background- and I run a delivery service. Marlene- that's the girl who's tickling Rinoa's foot- is the daughter of one of our friends, and she's staying with us in the city since her father's trying to find an alternative fuel source."

I shove my hands in my pockets.

"The boy on Tifa's other side is Denzel," I explain. "I found him in the ruins of Midgar one day, ended up taking him in. The other three are Zack, Sephiroth, and Aerith. Zack's the black-haired kid."

I pause, remembering.

"His mother was one of my old commanders, back when I was in the infantry," I say quietly. "He and his siblings just joined us about eight weeks ago. His... His mother asked me and Tifa to take care of them."

I swallow, and watch as Terra's expression falls, morphing into something confused.

"What was her name?" she asks. I cringe faintly.

"Her name was Terra Jerrel," I answer, and bite back the bitter words that are hovering on the tip of my tongue.

There's a moment of silence as Terra absorbs this.

"You looked up to her?" she inquires. I snort.

"Yeah, me and about a thousand other soldiers," I say wryly. "She was one of the top four commanding officers in Shinra's military, and out of those four, she was the top magic user. That woman could think of and apply more uses for Materia than there are teeth in thirteen behemoths' mouths."

There are a few appreciative and wondering chuckles.

"What happened to this Terra Jerrel?" asks Cecil. I briefly bite my tongue as guilt wells in my throat.

"I..." I trail off, unsure of how to say it. Finally, I just bite the bullet and get it out.

"I killed her."

There are several long moments of utter silence, during which everyone- and I _mean_ _**everyone-**_ stares at me, open-mouthed. Even Squall, who's normally so stoic, is slack-jawed.

"You _what?!_" It's Tidus who yelps this, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. I don't move, either to defend myself or to ward them off. I just clench my fists in my pockets.

My fingertips brush against a dried white lily.

"I killed her," I repeat. "Because she asked me to."

Confusion blooms upon their faces.

"Why would she ask you to?" asks Cecil. The dark knight is in his paladin form, his silver hair so lightweight that it's floating about his face. "If she had three children to look after, why would she commit assisted suicide?"

I sigh, and take my right hand out of my pocket to run it through my hair.

"She was degrading." I can see the questions forming on their lips before they ask them.

"In my world, there was a group of twisted scientists who performed human experiments on babies while they were still in the womb," I begin. Then I give them a relatively brief overview of the JENOVA project and its outcome, as well as Terra's fate, and that of Angeal and Genesis.

When I finally fall silent again, they're all pondering my words.

"So," says Firion. "It was a mercy killing?"

I nod. "I didn't want to. Then she attacked me, and I was forced to."

"But still, why would she abandon her kids like that?" asks Zidane.

I pause thoughtfully. "Something you have to know about Terra is that, like many SOLDIER Firsts, she had a very strong sense of honor and duty, as well as an unusually high level of pride in herself and her accomplishments.

"When she found out that she was going to die, she decided that she didn't want to waste away in a hospital or at home. She wanted to go out fighting, like she was trained to do. Terra... Terra literally _lived_ for her honor and pride. It was what she was born for, what she bled for, what she fought for, and what she eventually died for. She lived, ate, drank, and _breathed_ battle so that she could protect that honor."

There's a long pause after I fall silent. Then I swallow and change the subject.

"The silver-haired kid in the photo is Sephiroth," I say quietly. "And the baby in my arms is Aerith."

Firion, who's looking at the picture with Cecil and Aren- the Warrior of Light- looks up, curious.

"What about these people on your mechanical contraption?" he asks. I blink.

"You can see them?"

Firion nods, and then I look around to see them all looking at me expectantly. I rub my neck, more baffled than I've been in a long while.

"You can all see them?" I ask, trying to clarify things a bit. Firion passes the photo to Onion Knight, who looks it over and nods before handing it off to Squall, who does the same before handing it back to me.

"Yes, I think we do," Onion Knight says. I hold back a sigh as I pocket the photo once more.

"How clearly can you see them?" I query. They exchange glances.

"Well enough to make out the knit of their clothes," Zidane says. My eyebrows shoot upwards against my will.

I don't know what to say to that.

All's quiet for a second while they wait for an answer.

"Well?" Onion Knight prompts. "Who are they? You didn't mention them when you were telling us who was who. Names? Origins? Relation to you?"

I gaze at him, my stare scrutinizing. I guess I'll just tell them the truth.

"Those are Zack Fair, Angeal Hewley, and Terra Jerrel," I deadpan. "Posthumous, obviously."

Dead silence -no pun intended- blankets the group. I feel a tick wanting to start in my right eye, but I force it back and cross my arms.

"Didn't think you'd believe me," I mutter.

"Wait a second," objects Zidane. "You mean we're looking at _dead people?!_"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, that's _exactly _what I'm saying. In my world, the spirits of the Lifestream, if they're strong enough, can usually keep themselves separate from the river of souls, and sometimes they can manifest themselves in the physical realm. They're usually incorporeal, obviously, but some people can see them."

I pause. "I didn't even know that they were there until the day I was brought here. I was dying from the Mako withdrawal-" We all wince at the memory. "-and I saw Angeal and Zack before I passed out and woke up here."

My voice is getting hoarse- this is the most I've talked at one time in years. I don't think these guys realize that, though. They keep asking questions.

I answer them as best I can until I glance up and catch the sky darkening. The roiling clouds catch my attention, and I stop in mid-sentence, frowning.

"That's not natural, is it?" I ask rhetorically. The others all follow my line of sight. In a heartbeat, weapons have been drawn or materialized; magic flying, charged, between fingertips, ready to cast.

It's a good thing we've prepared, too, because in a moment, the ground in the distance erupts, shooting upwards toward the sky in a shower of earth and magma. Within seconds, a sheer wall of rock faces us, spewing liquid fire.

Huh. That's a funny word, spewing.

...And I need to get my head in the game.

Cough.

Then I feel my heart all but stop as ten figures appear atop the cliff. One of them has long, flowing silver hair and carries a seven-foot katana.

"...S-Sephiroth?!" I choke out, feeling my blood turn to ice in my veins.

No, _NO, _this _can't _be right, Sephiroth is back at home, he's three years old, and his time's been frozen while I'm gone battling! Sephiroth is that little boy I'm looking after who's paralytically afraid of thunder and lightning. This _can't _be him...!

"Cloud."

The sound of my name being called breaks me out of my stupor, and I look over to Squall to see him staring at Sephiroth, as well.

"Is that the same kid who's in your picture?" he asks. I swallow and nod.

"I think so," I reply. The words feel like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach. "I just don't know how it's possible. He's only _three, _for Chrissake!"

Squall doesn't respond to that comment.

"Just watch out for that bitch in the red dress beside him," he deadpans. "That's Ultimecia. She's from my world- time- and she _controls _time. You'll attack one second, and the next, you'll find yourself skewered by your own sword."

I grit my teeth. "Great. Just great. We're all facing our own worst enemies. _Again._"

Aren swings his sword, warming up his arm. "It would seem so. Prepare yourselves!"

A being of flame emerges from the earth behind our nemeses. A cool breeze caresses the back of my neck.

They charge. We charge.

_Clash._

The sound of weapons colliding resounds in my ears. I leap over an obstacle, my Mako-enhanced legs carrying me far, and bring a powerful downswing onto an armored man who Aren is fighting. He blocks it and knocks me away. I roll to break my fall, my gaze snapping up to catch sight of a scantily-clad woman preparing to blast me with a spell.

I dodge, and she throws it at Cecil, instead.

I feel my heart begin to pound until I see that he's blocked it- then I throw myself back into the battle. I try to hit the armored man again, but the Buster Sword clangs hollowly against the ground. Something flies over my head. I catch a glimpse of Onion Knight catapulting himself over the armored behemoth before I'm forced to block a hit that sends me flying.

I think Cecil steps in in my stead, but my head's spinning. Curse this motion sickness! I thought I'd gotten rid of you, you foul affliction!

Ahem.

I stagger to my feet to see Bartz and Onion Knight dodging a white thunder spell, Bartz summoning a weapon to his hand.

A flash of black and silver draws my attention to my right- Squall is facing off against Sephiroth. Adrenaline floods my veins, but I'm distracted when another man with silver hair appears in front of me, a spell glowing in his palms.

Jeez, what _is_ it with villains and silver hair?!

The spell blows up in my face- I'm just barely able to get the Buster Sword up in time to protect my head from the brunt of the explosion.

I'm sent soaring backwards until I impact the ground, skidding, then rolling with my momentum until I'm able to come to a stop on my hand and one knee, my other leg extended to counterbalance the weight of the Buster Sword in my right hand.

I see Firion dangling by one of his tools from a magically suspended chunk of land; to my right, Terra's duking it out with the silver-haired woman Squall warned me about. Zidane is dancing through the air, more nimble than a cat as he expertly deflects bolts of magic directed at him by a yellow-haired mage who looks like a clown. Bartz is facing a rather long drop at the hands of another armored giant, hanging by his sword.

I don't know where Firion, Squall, Tidus, or Aren are- I've lost sight of them for the moment, and as I see Sephiroth come for me, I know that they'll have to handle themselves.

But a glowing light draws my attention over to Terra. She's stepped into some kind of glyph. Lights are popping into existence around her- they look explosive. I parry Sephiroth's strike, kick him far away, and bolt for Terra's position. I can see Aren doing the same thing. I make it to her side, and shield us with my sword just as an explosion rocks the area.

When the smoke clears, I can see that Aren has done the same thing on Terra's other side; Onion Knight drops to the ground in front of us after blocking a hit, though I can't see who from. Cecil and Firion land on Aren's and my other side, respectively, and then they dash forward, leading what will, doubtlessly, be our final charge. We're all getting tired, I know.

As I dash toward the line of our enemies, I reach within myself for the Mako that Cosmos sealed away.

Strength floods my limbs, more than I've ever controlled before. I don't know for sure, but I think I might be glowing with the light of the Mako trapped within me. My skin begins to burn, the energy wants to be released it hurts, it hurts, it _hurts-_

I put on a tremendous burst of speed, the air becoming almost-solid beneath my feet, and then I clash with Sephiroth, spinning uncontrollably into the air, our blades clanging, their song music to my ears. I hear screams from both sides, of victory, of pain.

But Sephiroth is someone I've fought many times, and I'm not about to lose so easily. I head in with an underhanded slash designed to bisect him. Sephiroth blocks, his eyes luminous from the amount of Mako in him. He goes to behead me, and I dodge, thrusting the Buster Sword toward his guts. He parries.

The last thing I see before blackness engulfs me is the pommel of Masamune speeding in toward my face.

Then I know nothing.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**Don't own FFVII or Dissidia._

_Phew! Finished. At least with this one. I have two finals to go, one of which I'm stressing about, and then I'm free to write again! Yay! But please pray for me. The college algebra final is going to be difficult, and I have to pass it to pass the class._

_This chapter was mostly introduction and character study, obviously. The battle was taken from the opening cutscene of Dissidia: Final Fantasy. If you haven't seen it, yet, watch it on YouTube or something. It's awesome, but confusing, which is how real battles are. Things'll get more interesting next chapter, I hope. Thanks for reading!_

_A big thank you goes out to **Calenlass Greenleaf1** and **Tani2** for reviewing the last chapter. I'm very glad that you guys liked it so much!_

_Next chapter should (hopefully) be posted 12-20-09._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	8. Heights

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 8: Heights._**

* * *

_"__Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall... You fly."  
--Anonymous_

* * *

Ugh.

Gah.

Meh.

Geh.

Ugaa.

Hep.

Igh.

Bleh.

Urp.

Moan.

Pain.

Owwww...

...When did I hit the booze, again?

Oh. Right. I didn't hit the booze. The booze hit me...

OH HOLY _**SHIT**_ THAT'S _**COLD!**_

I wake up spluttering and sit up rapidly, my fist flying out and catching something that's squishy with a hard interior. I dimly register a yelp that meets my eardrums- then my head spins violently and I feel what's left of my lunch coming up my throat.

I roll over as quickly as I can and become violently sick.

By the time I'm through, my whole body's aching and my arms are shaking. I'm about to fall, again, but then there's a pair of strong, battle-roughened hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from the mess and laying me down gently.

There's cold, hard tile at my back.

My head's still aching and spinning, and I don't want to open my eyes because I know I'll probably get sick again.

Concussion? Check.

...What was that? Is someone calling me?

...Yes. That's my name they're saying. I guess they want me to open my eyes. Still, I don't think that's a good idea...

Oh.

Oh, SHIT-FUCKING FLYING MONKEYS ON STEROIDS.

I barely manage to turn myself over and prop myself up, trying to hold in the sparse contents of my stomach. I think my whole body's trembling. Somebody's rubbing my back between my shoulder blades, but it's not much comfort.

I take a few fortifying breaths- and then I gag again.

Ugh. Someone please kill me!

I'm coughing, now, since there's nothing to bring up, and I'm dry-heaving, and it's really a terrible feeling.

Fuck.

I retch one last time, and then I'm stuck there, shaking and sweating and in pain.

"Cloud?" The voice seems muffled and loud at the same time, as though they're shouting through a filter that's placed right next to my ear. I groan.

"'M c'nc'ss'd," I slur. I don't know if they're able to make out what I said, but I think the message gets across nonetheless. Someone turns me away from the mess I've made, and sits me up. I feel them let go of me, but their hands return a second later, firmly, as though they're catching me. I guess I was falling.

"Open your eyes." I groan, but do as I'm told.

Oh, God, I wish I could throw up again.

The world's spinning, and it's too bright, and I think I can see three brightly-colored blurs swimming before my eyes. I feel nauseous again. No, seriously, I think my face just turned either pale or green.

"How many of me do you see?" Is that Firion? Or is it Tidus? I can't think straight. I squint at them, trying to resolve the blurs into a distinctive shape.

They gradually condense into seven swaying Cecils, four frolicking Firions, and two tumbling Tiduses.

"Too f'ckin' m'ny." Slur. Slur. Slur. Blergh.

I gulp and clap my hand over my mouth and put my head between my knees, feeling bile try to rise in my throat.

Somebody says something, and a few seconds pass as I try to wrestle myself back under control. Then somebody puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me to drink something and that it'll help. I burp in response. Seriously, it feels like my guts are trying to shred themselves and then claw their way out of my body through my throat. It's not a good feeling.

The scent of a potion hits my nose. I briefly gag again. Then I manage to control my stomach, take the bottle, and quickly down about half of the medicine. I clap my hand over my mouth, forcing it down my throat and into my rebelling gut.

Its effects are immediate, and I feel my head stop spinning. I'm not fully cured, but it's enough that I'm able to open my eyes and squint blearily at the person by my side. It's Firion, though he's still pretty blurry. At least he's not dancing around like before.

"Thanks," I mumble, and then wait for him to nod in reply before I knock back the rest of the potion. When it's finished mending my head, I'm still shaky, but a lot better than before. I blink, feeling the euphoria of the potion-high wash over me, leaving me slightly dazed.

"Are you okay, now?" It's Tidus who's asking. I look over at him and nod tiredly. It won't be long until the Mako in my body finishes healing me, but until it does, I'll be kind of weak and shaky.

I hate it. With a passion.

And I'm totally going to kick Sephiroth's ass next time I see him. I don't care if he's my adopted son or not, giving me a concussion was totally unacceptable. That team-killing fucktard is _so _getting walloped.

Ahem.

I manage to struggle to my feet, using my Buster Sword as a crutch. I sway dangerously for a second once I'm upright, but the dizzy spell passes quickly and I'm able to stand on my own relatively soon. The Buster Sword is harnessed a second later, First Tsurugi vanishing into a subspace pocket with a thought and a brief pulse of magic. I sigh, and then turn to the others.

Tidus is nursing his jaw, where I can see the beginnings of a bruise forming.

Blink, blink.

"Did I punch you?" I ask him apologetically. Tidus grins faintly.

"Didn't feel a thing," he states dismissively. I frown slightly. He notices, and shrugs. "I should've known not to try to wake you up, considering your track record."

Blink, blink, blink.

"What do you mean?"

Cecil and Firion exchange a slightly amused glance before Cecil looks over at me. "You practically threw Squall when you first arrived, when we thought we'd have to revive you."

Oh. _Oh._

"That was _me?" _I ask with some disbelief. Tidus grins at me.

"Yep!" Then he dissoves into a snickering fit.

A tingle at the back of my mind alerts me to Cosmos' arrival before I turn and see her... or at least, what could pass for her if it wasn't translucent.

Yay for big words. They make me feel smart.

Mental grin.

As I settle in to listen to what she has to say, I absently wonder how it is that I keep getting myself into these situations.

This is going to be a long, _long _journey.

Sigh.

* * *

Why? Why is it _always _me who gets into these situations? For that matter, how is a freaking _castle_ floating in freaking _midair_ without any freaking propellers?!

Grr. It makes my brain hurt. And just when I was starting to feel smart, too.

Cecil says that it's probably some kind of magic that's holding it up. Still, whenever I feel one of the towers start swaying in the breeze, I feel like planting my Buster Sword in the stone itself and latching on. Nobody would be able to make me move, then!

Mwa ha ha ha ha ha! I am the latchingest latcher of all latchers! You'll never take me alive! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha!

...

Ahem. Sorry, I had a bit of a short breakdown, there.

Ooooh, _crap!_ It just moved again! It _totally just freaking __**moved**__ again!_

It's fucking official: I fucking _hate _whatever motherfucking sonuvabitch designed this God-forsaken castle!

Gulp.

I glance over the edge of the castle and feel my knees start to knock together. There's nothing down there. Literally, nothing. Just the empty sky, and then, miles and miles away, the cold, hard ground that's totally just waiting- waiting, I tell you! Waiting!- for me to slip up and plummet to my sudden death after about three minutes of ear-popping, breath-stealing, bone-freezing drop.

Oh, God, I fucking _hate_ this place.

"Cloud, are you okay?" I take an unintentionally sharp breath and turn to face Firion, taking a surreptitious step away from the edge of the precipice.

"Yeah," I mutter, trying to reassure myself as much as him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Nervous as hell about this drop, but I'm totally fucking fine."

Actually, "nervous as hell" is an understatement. I'm more along the lines of "scared shitless" at the moment.

Shiver.

Firion gives me a strange glance.

"I've been meaning to ask you. What's that word mean?" he asks. I blink and turn to face him fully.

"Which word?"

"'Fucking'," he quotes. I blink, and feel a slightly-hysterical giggle welling in my chest before I force it down, just barely managing to keep a straight face.

"It's a very vulgar term for the act of sexual intercourse," I say bluntly. Firion's face flares red.

"Th-Then why do you use it out of context like that?" he queries. I stare at him.

"It's the mother of all cuss words," I state. "Usually, you use it if you want to put huge emphasis on something along with a great deal of shock value. Sometimes, it's used when somebody's being sarcastic. Obviously, you don't usually want to use it in civil conversation, and especially not in mixed company. Do you understand?"

He nods mutely, and I take another step away from the edge before plopping myself ungracefully on the grass. We're silent for a long moment as Firion fiddles with the dagger at his belt and I absently start tearing apart the grass near my feet.

After about a half an hour, I start getting a little antsy.

Tidus and Cecil have gone exploring, but usually they don't take this long. What if something happened to them? What if one of them fell off? What if they've been attacked? Have they gotten lost? Have they forgotten about me and Firion? What's taking them so long?

I never get the chance to voice these queries, as the subjects of my thoughts round a corner of the castle a second later and my worrying is made needless.

I give an inaudible sigh of relief.

"How's it look?" I ask instead. Tidus shrugs.

"Aside from a few mannequins, it's pretty clear," he answers. Cecil nods his agreement.

"And we didn't see any sign of the Crystals, either," he reports, much to my disappointment. Great. And after I'd gotten my hopes up, too...

Yeah fucking right.

"Any way off this rock?" I ask half-heartedly. Tidus shrugs.

"There's the portal we came through," he replies. "And then there's that portal over there."

He points to the glowing image that I can see in the distance, across that great rift that I keep trying to avoid. It looks like some kind of ancient colosseum or something. Either way, I'm not too eager to check it out.

Now it's Firion's turn to pipe up. "I say we check out that new portal."

...But then again, my opinion doesn't really count for much of anything, here. The other two are agreeing already, too. Sigh.

"Son of a fucking bitch," I sigh as I get to my feet.

"You're displeased about our destination?" queries Firion. I give him a level look.

"Not so much the destination as the means of transportation," I grouse. "I hate not being able to see the things I'm walking on."

Tidus grins at me. "Don't worry, we'll catch you if you fall."

Now I growl at him. "I'm not a damsel in distress! I can walk this thing on my own."

"Yeah?" he challenges, a smirk curling the corners of his lips.

Uh-oh. I have a bad feeling about this, and for some reason, I think I know _exactly_ what immature thing is about to pop out of his mouth.

"Prove it."

Shit.

I fucking _hate_ it when I'm right.

I glare at him, but I'm unable to keep from wobbling slightly when the structure we're standing on moves again.

Oh, I hate that whoreson right now!

But, like most any other guy out there, I can't find it in me to back down from this challenge, so I force myself to take those first few steps toward where I'm hoping that invisible path between the castle and where the portal is situated.

Gulp.

Okay, I can totally do this. Yeah. No biggie, right?

Oh, Holy Mother of God, this thing just _moved, _again! Son of a bitch, this thing had _better_ not let me fall.

"Tidus?" I call behind me, balancing awkwardly on what looks, to all appearances, to be thin air.

"Yeees?" he sing-songs back. I glance back to glare at him, and then I hurriedly face forward again when I wobble dangerously.

"If I die here, your ass is fucking _haunted!" _I snap, my voice rising a little with my anxiety. Then I take another step forward, trying hard to control my breathing and the pounding of my heart.

Another step. We're getting there, right?

A fourth step. Okay, maybe this isn't so bad, right?

"BASTARD WHORESON OF A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!" I scream as the path lurches under my feet and I'm sent tumbling off the side of it.

Oh, yeah. Tidus is _so _haunted!

"TIDUS, YOU ARE SO _DEAD, _YOU TEAM-KILLING FUCKTARD!" My furious, panicked screech is barely audible even to my ears, because the wind is whipping it away from me faster than I can fall. I see a flash of light. Then something is falling rapidly toward me.

I realize that it's Cecil in paladin form. Oh, yeah. He can fly in that form, right? Why didn't I think of that sooner?

I'm flipped over by the wind just before I spread my arms and legs out, trying to up my wind resistance and slow my fall. My heart's pounding as the ground seems to get closer and closer, and I think I'm crying. Maybe.

Oh, God, where the fuck is Cecil?!

The ground's approaching faster and faster despite my best efforts. My breath's getting quicker and shallower as the air pressure changes, and my ears are pop-pop-popping with my descent. The wind makes my eyes water, and the freezing coldness of the air is making my nose run. I can't breathe, my heart is pounding, I think I'm about to wet my pants, and _oh sweet Jesus, where the fucking __**hell **__is Cecil?!_

God, oh God, please don't let this be the end! I have to see Tifa and the kids again! Please don't let me die now, not when I've been cured of my Mako withdrawal. I don't care if I have to go on a thousand more quests, if I have to cross a thousand more invisible bridges, if I have to kill a thousand team-killing fucktards, just please, please, _please_ let me survive this so that I can see my family again. Please, God, don't let me die here!

Something impacts harshly with my midsection and then reverses our direction, knocking the breath from my lungs and making my whole body ache. Wheezing, I look over at Cecil, my eyes streaming and my nose running.

"Thanks," I gasp out. Then I slump with a groan as Cecil draws my arm over his shoulder, my ribs a mass of burning agony where he grabbed me. We're levitating in place.

"Are you okay, Cloud?" he asks, concerned. I draw in a couple harsh breaths.

"I'm... going... to _kill... _that fucktard," I wheeze. Cecil gives me a faintly amused look as he begins to ascend.

"I don't think that would be a wise thing to do, Cloud," he quips. If I could kill someone with a look, I'd be in serious trouble right now, because Cecil would've just dropped dead. Then I'd be in a fix.

"I'm going to _kill _that stupid, idiotic, team-killing sonuvabitch of a fucktard," I emphasize. I'm still furious, and I definitely have more than a few choice terms to call Tidus right now, but I'm unable to express my rage properly due to the state of my breathing. Cecil just rolls his eyes.

"You're welcome to break his nose, Cloud, but no killing."

I grumble a few uncouth words under my breath, but otherwise, I choose to fume in silence. I think I might be shaking, and I know that Cecil can feel it. Seriously, I haven't been this shaken since Yazoo and Loz killed me almost two years ago. It's all I can do to keep from hyperventilating, and I just barely manage to keep my breathing even.

It takes just over five minutes for Cecil to fly us back up to the place where Firion and Tidus are waiting anxiously. When Cecil finally lands on the edge of the platform, my knees shake violently before I manage to get my feet.

The other two rush over to us quickly.

"Cloud, are you okay?" Firion asks, worry in his voice. Tidus' blue eyes are wide as he comes over to me.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he demands. I don't look at him for a long moment, tremors visibly wracking my whole body. I ball up my right fist at my side, the other still slung across Cecil's shoulders.

Stay calm, Cloud. Stay calm, it wasn't his fault, you didn't have to take his challenge. You could've just walked away from it. Don't take it out on Tidus. Don't. Just don't.

"Cloud?"

Bam!

My fist buries itself in Tidus' face, sending him flying backward about five feet before he lands in a heap.

"YOU STUPID FUCKING BASTARD SON OF A BITCH!" I roar. "THAT WAS TOTALLY FUCKING UNCOOL!"

I fall silent, tearing myself away from Cecil and from the edge of the Rift before I collapse into a trembling ball, bending down and burying my nose in the sweet, sweet grass as I inhale the scent of the ground, the blessedly _solid_ ground.

I'm not dead! Thank you, God! And thank you, Cecil!

I swear to God, I am _never_ going on an airship that isn't Cid's _ever_ again. Henceforth, I swear fidelity to the _Shera_ only, none other. I am _never _flying coach again. Never ever. Not on anybody's life.

LAAAAAAND! BLESSED LAND! BLESSED SEMI-STABLE LAND THAT MOVES IN THE SLIGHTEST BREEZE, BUT IS STILL SOLID!

I realize that I'm almost post-traumatic, but I don't care if I'm slightly hysterical right now. I just had a near-death experience. I'm entitled to a little bit of a freak-out, okay?

Yeah, and anybody who thinks otherwise can just go fuck themselves in the ass with a red-hot fucking _poker._

Fuck, I _hate_ heights!

* * *

It takes them a grand total of three hours to talk me into trying to cross the bridge again. Somehow I ended up clinging, spider-like, to the stones ten feet up a sheer wall that I can now see has absolutely no handholds or footholds. I don't know how I did it, but I think I also vaguely remember hissing at them when they tried to coax me down from it.

Judging by the wary looks they're giving me, I think I must've looked pretty strange.

But even through I'm still glaring daggers at Tidus, I can take a sort of dark satisfaction from the fact that his nose is only now beginning to stop bleeding.

Oh, yeah. I totally rock.

Right now, I'm standing at the edge of the platform where it meets the invisible bridge again. My breathing is beginning to pick up again, and I can feel my heart starting to pound, the blood rushing loudly in my ears. I'm starting to hyperventilate again.

No. I can't do this. Not right now. Not so soon after a near-death experience. Of that, I'm abso-fucking-lutely sure.

"No fucking way."

Suck on that, you fucking bastards.

I turn away from the bridge and stomp back over to my wall, much to their dismay, curling defensively into a fetal position with my back against the stones. I take the Buster Sword off of my back and sink it into the ground in front of my feet, effectively blocking myself off from my companions as well as the outside world.

Maybe I'm being immature and cowardly right now, but I don't give a flying, fucking, fudge-flavored, blueberry-colored damn.

They can just deal with it.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**I own neither FFVII or Dissidia._

_I'm back, and back in action! Woot~!_

_I now have a working power cord, and I should hopefully be pretty regular in my updates again, at least for a while. I might have another break soon, though, since there's a strong possibility that I might be getting Windows 7 on my computer, after which I'll have to make the appropriate adjustments. But other than that, there's very little getting in the way of steady updates save for possible writer's block._

_Thank you all for all your support, and I really hope you liked this chapter. I found Cloud rather funny, myself, but maybe that's because I have a warped sense of humor._

_Anyway, this update is about three days early. I wanted to get it out there because I turned 20 today (February 7, 2010) and I wanted to give you all a present, too. Yay, me!_

_A huge thank you goes out to everyone who was so supportive of me when I announced my unfortunate hiatus, and to those who reviewed chapter 6 (7, if you're counting the prologue). That means you, **Calenlass Greenleaf1**._

_Next chapter should be posted 2-15-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	9. Reunion

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 9: Reunion._**

**_

* * *

_**

_"Side by side we fought like heroes, statues in the light. Our weapons became our tools of justice as we led our team to war."  
__--Anonymous_

**_

* * *

_**

Have I ever mentioned how much I dislike floating platforms?

Luckily for the rest of the guys, I'm not freaking out like I was before, when we were at the castle in the sky. But I'm still a little nervous. This place has a few floating platforms, but luckily, most of the ground 'round here is actually anchored. It's just the fact that it's anchored in _lava_, of all things, that makes me nervous.

Sigh.

Currently, we're resting for the night. We must've explored every inch of this place (I think Tidus mentioned it being called Zanarkand, or something), but we've had no luck whatsoever, so far. I'm beginning to think that we might never find our Crystals.

Either way, we wore ourselves out. This place is set up so that you either have to jump from platform to platform, or you have to cross a series of narrow catwalks that stretch in circular paths between the land masses.

I'm on watch, right now- Tidus, Firion, and Cecil are snoozing away around me (the lucky bastards). But maybe it's a good thing that I'm not asleep. I don't think I'd be able to rest properly in this place. It's too hot, anyway, and that's saying a lot. I mean, my regular core temperature has been higher since I was first injected with Mako so long ago, so I admit that I do get hot easier than most people, but I'm also able to withstand temperature extremes far better than the normal person can. As it is, I don't understand how Cecil and Firion can sleep in their armor like they are- I'd probably already be cooked if I was in their place.

A noise draws my attention to the platform to our left, and my senses immediately go on high alert, my hand tightening around the hilt of the Buster Sword as I materialize it from the subspace pocket where I've taken to storing all of my things. (Really, it was a cinch to learn how to do it, once Cecil taught me how. Tidus had more trouble learning than I did. It was very amusing.)

But nothing moves.

Unease settles across me, and I turn back to studying the great-sword that's sticking out of the altar that's situated in the middle of the lava pool. I try not to let on that I'm straining my ears for anything out of the ordinary.

There it is, again!

I _know_ I heard something, that time. It sounded like stone skittering across stone, which means that our stalker is on foot, probably wearing boots, by the sound of it. And... is that the rasp of metal? Yes, yes it is.

I close my eyes, straining my hearing further. Thankfully for me, the Mako in my body has enhanced most of my senses to the point where I'm able to make out where the person is and most of what they're wearing.

Leather?

Leather, metal, on foot, wearing boots... I wrack my brain for a second, recalling the appearances of the villains we clashed with before we were all separated. The only one whose description matches that which I'm hearing is...

Sephiroth.

I swallow, knowing that the time has come for me to confront him. I want some answers. But still, I can't be reckless about this, not when the others are here. After all, what kind of person would I be if I just left my friends to the mercy of a madman?

Gritting my teeth, I get to my feet and gently nudge Cecil's shoulder. He's the nearest to me, and the most level-headed aside from Firion, as well as the least likely to fry-slash-skewer me upon waking.

Cecil wakes with a sleepy grunt, but I've got my eyes trained on that other platform even though I haven't turned my head, and don't see his expression. I can hear his confusion and faint annoyance in his voice when he speaks, though.

"Cloud? What is it?" he asks. I shush him faintly.

"We have company," I whisper. I hear him go still, and know that he's fully alert, now, probably searching the area for signs of our unwelcome guest. "He's on the platform to our left."

Cecil nods minutely. I hear him materialize his sword, and the sound of him gripping it reaches my ears.

"Don't, Cecil," I murmur. I can practically feel his confusion. "It's my fight. Get the others up, but don't interfere."

"Right," he returns, keeping his voice low.

"Thanks," I whisper, and then turn to the other platform. It's one that I have to jump to get to, but with my Mako enhancements, I have little problem clearing the gap. I can hear the others behind me, but I'm focused on the confrontation that's about to unfold.

Sure enough, as I crest the top of the stadium, I find myself faced with a mass of silver and black. He's smirking at me.

"Good to see you, Cloud." His voice is the same bass tone that I remember from my time in the army, as well as the mission to Nibelheim and the subsequent battles. I fight down a shiver. The last time I heard that voice was right before I was shot by Yazoo.

_I will never be... just a memory._

Jeez, what a creeper.

"Sephiroth!" I return, frowning up at him. My grip on the Buster Sword tightens, and he readies his own blade, the Masamune.

But I really don't want to fight him. I just want answers.

"Fighting you would be meaningless, and I'm tired of taking part in pointless battles," I state. "I want answers, Sephiroth."

That familiar smirk is curling his lips, that light of insanity in his eyes.

"Then, if you had a reason, you'd fight anyone?" he counters, ignoring my last sentence. I grind my teeth in frustration.

"No!" I spit. "What I want is to believe in what I fight for. And I want some answers from you! Why're you grown up? Why are you acting like this?"

He chuckles, lowering the Masamune, but it's a derisive sound.

"You're nothing but a puppet," he mutters, but his voice carries easily to my ears.

"What?" I demand, blinking. I can hear Cecil, Tidus, and Firion preparing for battle behind me, just in case things get out of hand. But I know that I won't need their help.

"Then let me give you a reason," Sephiroth continues. Then he holds out his hand.

A second later, something materializes in the air above it. It's a ring, and a blood-splattered I.D. tag, both of them chillingly familiar. I gaze upon them with wide eyes.

"A dream is easy to nip in the bud." Sephiroth tosses them down toward me. The tag lands with a clack on the stone, while the ring- Tifa's Griever ring- clangs and bounces and rolls until it hits my boot and stops.

"How pitiful, to live life hanging onto something so fragile," Sephiroth continues. I swallow, my gaze fixed on the items at my feet. I know that Sephiroth won't attack me physically, not while he's toying with my emotions like this. But still, I can't keep down the rage and worry that boils up within me.

"Tifa's ring," I whisper. "And Zack's I.D." I glare up at him as he laughs, feeling rather murderous. "What've you done to them?!"

He turns away.

"Sephiroth! _Answer me!"_

"There's your reason," he says. "Come after me." Then his form glows briefly before it fades as he teleports away.

Silence envelops the area, though I'm surprised that the others can't hear my teeth grinding. My fists are clenched at my sides, the leather gloves they're encased in creaking with the strain of protecting my palms from my fingernails. My arms are trembling faintly with the force of my fury.

Finally, I scoff, and, still shaking, bend down and pick up the ring and the I.D. I know that the ring won't fit me, but I have a chain around my neck that I've taken to wearing lately. They're my old dog-tags from when I was in the army. They came with my clothes when Cosmos brought them for me. I'd forgotten that I still had them until they fell out of the pocket of my pants.

I slip the chain off of my neck, unclasp it, and fit the ring onto it before I put the chain back on, hooking it so that it won't come undone. The I.D. I slide into my pocket, next to the picture of my family.

"Cloud?" It's Firion.

I take a deep breath. "I'm fine."

But I'm still shaking. My breathing is labored as I try to hold in my worry and frustration. It's a blinding lump of heat in my chest, threatening to suffocate me.

Finally, I can't take it anymore.

It starts out as a growl, but it soon grows to a short roar of rage that's compounded when I draw the Buster Sword and stab it into the ground near my feet. I ball up my fist and punch the stone, splitting open both my glove and my knuckles.

Why is he doing this?! Why the hell would he go back to serving evil? Why would he drag Tifa and Zack into this, when he's been treated so well by both of them? For that matter, how the hell is he even _old,_ again?!

I shout again, and my fist slams into the stone for a second time with a crunch, sending agony lancing through my arm.

The pain brings me back to myself, and I take several deep breaths to calm myself as much as possible.

It's hard to do when I mentally review all that's happened recently. Between the Mako withdrawal and the fact that I've been brought here to fight for something I really don't believe in, and add in the fact that I have a new reason to fear heights, and complete it with the fact that my adoptive son has suddenly grown back up into a sociopathic mass-murderer, and you'll see why I'm acting like this.

"Damnit," I hiss into the silent air. "Damn it all to hell."

There's another second of silence.

"Cloud?" It's Tidus this time, and he sounds concerned. "What can we do?"

I take several deep, steady breaths.

"You can't do anything," I say quietly. "I have to do this on my own."

"What?!" demands Firion. "That's insane!"

I stand and turn to look firmly at them all. "Don't follow me. Go find your Crystals. I'll meet you back at Cosmos' place."

I spin away, grab the Buster Sword, and then leave before anyone can say anything more. I think I may have hurt them a little, but I know that things'll be okay between us.

They'll understand.

* * *

I'm striding through a land of darkness when I first sense the familiar presence. I swallow, closing my eyes and stretching out my senses. It's over to my right, about one o'clock or so. It seems to be hiding behind a pillar.

Sighing, I round the structure, half-expecting to see one of them standing there majestically.

All I see are a pair of red gemstones. Materia.

Falling to my knees beside them, I reach out and touch one of them with disbelieving fingertips.

A sense of fear, of untamed and savage power, of being trapped, fills my senses as a lupine howl fills my mind.

"Fenrir?" I whisper. The fear abates slightly, hope and curiosity replacing it.

"_**Cloud?"**_ It's almost pitiful, how hopeful he sounds.

"Yeah," I reply softly. "Yeah, it's me."

"_**You found us!"**_ His joy is nearly palpable. I swallow guiltily.

"Yeah." I take a deep breath- this is going to hurt. "Let's get you out of that damned stone."

I pick it up and press the stone to my chest. Pain fills me for an instant as I call forth the Mako in my body to assimilate Fenrir into myself. Then his presence settles in the back of my mind, and I can sense that he's happy. He feels as though he would be acting like a hyper puppy if he had a body.

Next, I reach for the other Materia.

"_Cloud."_ Griever's deep, rumbling voice greets me calmly.

"It's good to hear you again, Griever."

"_I'm glad to see you, as well. Now get me out of this blasted ball."_

I chuckle briefly, and then I grit my teeth as I assimilate him, as well. As he settles into the back of my mind, I can sense his relief. It's a feeling that I've sorely missed over the past few weeks since I lost them.

I missed you guys.

_'And I you,'_replies Fenrir. Griever just purrs in contentment.

It's good to be together, again.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**I don't own FFVII, Advent Children, Dirge of Cerberus, or Dissidia. Chew on that._

_FFN's being squirrelly, again. Ick._

_On another note, I'm really sorry that this chapter is so short. I got caught up in an essay as well as another short story that I'm working on, and by the time I realized I had a chapter due on here, it was, like, 2300 hours and I was like "Oh, shit!". At least something good happened in this chapter, even though it's bloody **short.**_

_Thank you to the one person who reviewed the last chapter: **Calenlass Greenleaf1.**I'm glad you got to see that the last chapter had been replaced. I don't think that FFN notifies readers if an author replaces a chapter's content._

_So, to all you who haven't found out, yet, **GO BACK AND READ CHAPTER 8. THE A.N. HAS BEEN REPLACED WITH REAL CHAPTER CONTENT, COMPLETE WITH SWEARING, VIOLENCE, AND CLOUDY-NESS.**_

_Next chapter should be posted 2-20-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	10. Reason

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 10: Reason._**

* * *

_"Vincit qui se vincit: He conquers who conquers himself."  
-Ancient Latin Adage_

* * *

Fenrir and Griever both get a chance to work out the kinks of their imprisonment rather soon, if I do say so myself. It's only been about three hours since I found them, but I've already come into conflict with an enemy who seems to outclass me in both the strength and stamina departments, which is really saying something.

Griever, however, doesn't seem to feel like coming out, so I summon Fenrir, instead.

He bursts from the ground with a joyous howl, eager to be on the battlefield once again. I only have to point him in the right direction before he leaps forward, teeth bared.

The mannequin I was having trouble with looks intimidated (or at least, as much as is possible- it's hard to tell with these things since they're pretty soulless). I guess it must be the fact that Fenrir's about seven feet tall at the shoulder with a gigantic mouth chock-full of razor-sharp teeth, and paws the size of dinner plates with claws capable of rending steel apart.

Oh, yeah. I love having kick-ass summons. Smirk. Smirk. Smirk.

_'Glad you think so highly of us,'_ Griever comments from the back of my mind.

You know it.

Griever purrs in reply. Seriously, sometimes he strongly reminds me of the cat that mom had when I was a kid. I hated the thing (believe me, it was a mutual feeling), but it _loved_ my mom. When she would sit down next to the stove, it would jump on her lap and purr and purr, and she'd sit there petting it until she had to get up again. Then it would hop down, hiss at me, and scamper off to do its thing.

I never told my mom this, but I was ecstatic when the thing got run over by a wagon when I was six. Mom- God rest her soul- would've been mightily disappointed in me to know that I rejoiced at that demon cat's death.

Cackle.

Fenrir's actually having _fun _right now. The mannequin's kind of looking a little frantic- not that I blame it- and Fenrir's looking like he's about ready to let rip a madman's cackle. You know, kind of like the one that Sephiroth used to do to scare the cadets back in ShinRa. And man, did that laugh ever work.

Here's what he'd do, the old crackpot. He'd line up all the rawest recruits (Angeal and Genesis would be there, helping, with Terra shaking her head from the sidelines) and then he'd give them this speech about ShinRa's expectations and SOLDIER pride and all that bull crap. Then he'd go into this rant about what would happen should we mutiny or be insubordinate at any time.

Believe me, the descriptions were graphic and terrifying. More than one recruit was shaking in their boots by the end of the lecture, and I swear that I once saw someone faint, and another pee his pants. By the time Sephiroth's rant would be over, the recruits would be wound up tighter than a jack-in-the-box.

Then he'd laugh this long, evil cackle that sounded like something straight out of someone's worst nightmares. I swear he had coaching from Hojo on it, because it didn't sound anything like Heidigger or Scarlet's ridiculous sniggers. This one sounded genuinely _insane,_ which was what was so scary about it.

Zack once confided in me that that laugh still scared him even after four years. And it still scared Angeal, too, after nine years. Poor guys.

Anyway, Fenrir's almost done with the mannequin, so we'll have to get moving again soon.

It seems like forever has passed since the battle started, but I know that it's only been about five minutes or so. I guess that it's just that my sense of time is skewed because I'm so eager to get to Sephiroth and get some answers.

That brings my thoughts back to the puzzle surrounding my adoptive son, again, and my mood drops. By the time that I notice that Fenrir has defeated his opponent and is sitting beside me, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a canine grin, I'm angry, and determined to hunt Sephiroth down and get those answers, whether he wants to give them up willingly or not. Even if I have to force them out of him with First Tsurugi, I'll find out what he's up to.

I swear it.

* * *

The place I'm walking through is hair-raisingly familiar, and sends chills up my spine as I recall what went on here.

I'm at the planet's core.

The liquid green of the Mako is swirling around me, up, up into blackness where the Northern Crater opens into the sky so far above. Beneath my feet is a platform of rock, and more of them are floating about this timeless space. I can hear the souls of the dead, can hear Gaia's cries. It's like stepping back in time.

Then I hear his chuckle. Demented bastard.

"I knew you'd come," he greets. Turning to face me, he smirks. "You always do as you're told, don't you?"

I glare. "What?"

"You look for a reason because you don't want to be swept into a fight, but all you do is look. You do nothing to follow that desire." He shakes his head in what seems like disappointment, and holds up his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "That is why you are so eager to make someone else's reason your own."

My mind flashes to Zack, and his reasons for wanting to survive, to live, to _fight. _Aerith. His mother and father, Angeal and Sephiroth, Cissnei, Tseng. Me. He fought for all of us, and he died for my sake.

I shake off the guilt before it can swallow me. Now's not the time, and if I get caught in my memories, I'll be playing right into the palm of his hand.

"What's your point?" I counter. I know from experience that asking won't draw answers out of him. I'll have to fight him if I want to get any information.

"Your companions could get hurt," he replies, "yet they'd still have the will to continue their search. But what about you?"

I have a reason. Actually, I have seven of them. And they're all waiting at home with their time frozen until I manage to finish these battles and get back.

When I don't reply, Sephiroth continues to speak. "You're nothing but a puppet that gets swept away, unable to make any decisions on its own."

Ooh, that's got my ire up. I've been called a puppet _way_ too many times for me to let _that_one slide. Grr.

"You're wrong!" I growl out. "I just-"

He interrupts me, walking toward me. "So... I'll continue to provide you with a reason..." He stops in front of me, looking at me directly in the eye, challenging me with the rest of his sentence, "every time you need one."

It's then that I see it. There's something hidden in his gaze, something that I can't quite put my finger on. But I'm too angry to really care, now.

"Shut the hell up!" I shout. "I've had enough of being told what to fight for, and I want some damn answers, Sephiroth. I came here to face you of my own will!"

He chuckles and walks past me. I hear him draw the Masamune out of subspace as he speaks.

"All you've ever wanted was to cling to old memories."

I grit my teeth and materialize the Buster Sword, holding it with both hands in my most familiar, most adaptable stance, ready for anything.

"You're the one who can't let go!"

I charge him, leaping into the air and bringing the Buster Sword to bear down upon his head with a bellow of cold rage. He blocks the strike, but I hit him again, charging my broadsword with energy in my signature Braver move. Sephiroth goes flying downward to crash through one platform and land upon the largest.

It ends here.

"Go back to sleep!" I order, following him downward, Buster Sword extended and ready to deal the finishing blow.

However, he rights himself just before he hits the ground and, in a move that is eerily similar to my last battle with him over a year ago, holds the Masamune horizontally over his head. He blocks my strike effortlessly, and then, when I rebound off of his sword, he slashes me away.

"Accept it," his voice taunts as he sends another hundred light jabs at me using magic. "I am the one that guides you forever!"

Then he sweeps the Masamune at me again. I block it, but the strike hurts my arms, and I'm sent careening helplessly over the edge of the precipice. I'm locked in a free-fall for all of a split second- then I shove my sword into the side of the platform, arresting my descent and saving my life. My chest heaving from the adrenaline in my veins, I haul myself up over the side of the platform and scramble onto semi-solid ground once more, laying prone and flat against it as I try to quell the pounding of my heart. The memories of my other recent free-fall surge through my head.

"If it's despair you want, then I shall provide."

I look up at the sound of his voice to find Masamune hovering an inch from my jugular vein, Sephiroth smirking insanely down at me. It sends chills down my spine when I realize exactly _how_ familiar a scene this is.

"Didn't we already _have _this conversation?!" I demand, knocking away Masamune and getting to my feet, readying myself again. "There's nothing I don't cherish!"

He smirks and chuckles, slipping into one of his offensive stances. "You're nothing but a puppet."

I grind my teeth, tighten my grip on my sword, and charge forward.

When he sends a slash at me this time, I'm more than ready to meet it, parrying with some effort and then slashing downward. He blocks it. Then he forces me to evade when he sends a lightning-quick stab towards my heart. I leap backward to put some distance between us, hurling a Firaga spell at him as I go. He manages to dodge the first, but the second and third hit him in the shoulder and the abdomen. I can smell burning flesh.

Ouch.

But he isn't outwardly effected, and charges in towards me with one of his special moves, the Scintilla. I dash backward, only to find that I've run out of ground. Gritting my teeth, I block the last of the attack and bolt forward, Buster Sword held out beside me in a clothesline maneuver.

He moves to block it again, but I've got something else in mind. The Buster Sword was only a feint, hiding my real intention of grabbing him around the neck in a move that I learned from Tifa. Sephiroth falls for it, which surprises me slightly, and goes still as I tangle my feet with his, his windpipe wedged into the crook of my elbow and the sharp edge of the Buster Sword pressing into his belly.

If he so much as moves, I'll gut him like a dead fish.

"Now it's time for some answers," I growl into his ear. "Why are you serving Chaos? Why are you grown up? Why do you seem to hate me all of a sudden?"

A low, menacing chuckle emanates from him. I don't like that sound, and I tighten my grip on him.

"Foolish." His voice is rasping since I've got the majority of his air flow cut off. "You've left yourself open, Cloud."

I blink in surprise, and then I cry out and let go when I feel a sudden, sharp agony blaze into existence, centralized around my right hip. Stumbling back, clutching my hip with my free hand, I glare at Sephiroth with all the venom I can muster.

Which, believe me, is quite a lot.

"Damn you," I hiss, and then I send a Thundaga spell hurtling his way. Sephiroth dodges most of it, but some of the electricity zings up his sword, briefly sending him into convulsions. I capitalize on the opportunity. Running toward him isn't the easiest thing to do with a wounded hip, but I've had worse injuries for certain. Nearing him, I rear my arm back.

Sephiroth recovers just in time to parry my first slash, but the force I put behind it breaks his guard, and the other fourteen connect solidly. It's then, while he's staggering, that I pull First Tsurugi out of subspace and charge it with Mako, ejecting the six blades into the air surrounding Sephiroth.

By the time the next fourteen slashes are through, Sephiroth is bleeding copiously as he falls to one knee on the floor and I drop heavily in front of him, my swords burying themselves in the stone around us.

He's beaten.

And my heart feels lighter. Much lighter. I have my reason to fight, and whether I get my answers or not, I'm going to fight for that reason.

A flash of light blinds me for an instant before I look behind me towards its source.

There, hovering in midair, is a familiar round gem, such pale green in color that it's almost white.

"The White Materia," I whisper to myself in wonder and recognition, getting up and striding forward to look at it more closely. "Is... Is the White Materia my Crystal?"

Certainty blossoms in my chest, and I can almost hear Aerith's reassuring voice.

"Yep," I murmur. "This is it. Definitely."

"It is also what you most despise." Sephiroth's voice isn't shaky at all, but I can hear the weakness in it that results from being beaten so soundly. Really, you'd think that after being defeated by me _three freaking times, _he'd learn that I'm not someone to be trifled with, or someone that he wants to piss off. I guess he's just too dense, though.

I glance cooly back at him over my shoulder as he continues to speak, levering himself up to a hunched position using the Masamune as a crutch.

Black blood is leaking out of all the gashes in his body.

"Take it, and you will be doomed to further conflicts and never know why."

I close my eyes briefly. Then I make up my mind and look at him firmly.

"So be it," I intone. "It that's the price I have to pay to see my family and friends again, then I'll do whatever it takes. That is the destiny I've chosen for myself. And God help you if you stand in my way."

I extend my hand to take the Materia, holding it gently in the palm of my hand.

"I live in my reality, not yours." The orb is warm and welcoming against my skin. I can hear a million voices crying in my head, welcoming me, rejoicing at my presence. I think, for a second, that I can hear Zack and Angeal and Terra, but the notion soon passes, and I tuck my Crystal into my special subspace pocket. I already miss its comforting presence.

Sephiroth's wry chuckle drags my attention back to him. He's standing fully straight, now, and much to my surprise, his wounds are half-healed.

"Very well," he declares, walking toward me. He stops a couple of feet away from me; my hand clenches on the Buster Sword's hilt.

But Sephiroth doesn't attack.

"Every time your eyes gaze upon it, remember," he orders. "You were only able to obtain it with my guidance."

The look in his eyes is slightly menacing. "And I will continue to pull your strings."

I glare at him. "Fuck off."

He smirks. Then he's gone in a flash of violet light, and I'm left alone in the planet's core with nothing but my swords for company and the endless rushing sound of Mako.

Disgruntled, and in a generally bad mood, I move about, gathering up the fallen pieces of First Tsurugi.

"I decide my own path," I mutter, quickly and systematically reassembling the blade into its most compact form again.

Even if I have my doubts, I have to find my own answer... and tell my friends, like I promised. Until then, I'll keep fighting.

And like I told Sephiroth...

God help anyone who stands in my way.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**I don't own FFVII, AC, DOC, CC, or Dissidia. I've covered all my bases, so nyeh. *sticks tongue out in a childish manner*_

_This chapter's two days late, but I hope that the increased length and the battle sequences make up for it. XD_

_So Cloud's finally got that determination, even though he didn't really figure anything out about Sephiroth's motives. I can tell you, though, that it'll probably only be a few more chapters at the most before the mystery is solved. There were a few hints in here, if you squint. I would give you a preview of the next chapter, but to be honest, even I don't know what's coming! *grin*_

_A big thank you goes out to the sole reviewer of my last chapter. **Helliebabe**, thanks for your support! And I totally understand about the reviewing thing._

_Next chapter should be posted 2-25-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	11. Friends

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 11: Friends._**

* * *

_"Friendship is a marvelous thing. It can span age, gender, language, cultures, and even jail time. And a best friend is the one who'll be sitting next to you during that jail time saying, 'That was fucking awesome.'"_  
_--Anonymous._

* * *

It's raining.

It's fucking _raining._

_And_ it's nighttime.

…How can my day get any worse…?

Sigh.

'_Oh, suck it up and keep moving, already,'_ Griever grouses from the back of my mind. I grumble in return, and pick up my heavy foot to move it another pace in front of me.

My footing crumbles, though, and with a yelp of surprise I begin to slide down a crumbling slope before I manage to catch myself and pull myself to safety.

How the fuck is it _raining_ on the fucking _moon?!_

Groan.

But my attention is suddenly grabbed by a feminine moan ahead of me. I strain my eyes to see through the gloom around me, but it's difficult even for my Mako-enhanced vision. There's a faint glow crackling some yards ahead of me. Nearing the source, I realize that it's Terra. She's hunched over, and she looks like she's in pain, with some kind of magical energy field sparking around her body. I pause on the ledge above her, observing for a moment.

As though she senses my approach, Terra turns and looks up at me, pain etched into every fine line of her face.

"Why are you here?"

I say nothing, just stare at her as I try to figure out what's happening to her. I'm suddenly reminded that she once told me that she's an Esperkin, and that she can't quite control her powers. Maybe that's what's wrong.

"Please!" Her voice brings me back to the present, and I see her shake her head. "You have to get away!"

But I know that, unless she relieves some of the pressure that her powers are building inside her, she'll get damaged herself. I should know, I've been in that position before. But I'm not really sure what I should do in this situation. I know that Tifa sometimes has to use force to knock some sense into me when I get in one of my moods… I pull the Buster Sword out of subspace and hold it before me, ready to fight. I don't know if I'll be able to help her, but I'll at least try my best.

"What are you doing?! Please, don't!" Is she worried that she'll hurt me? Ha! She's seriously underestimating me if she thinks I can't take a few punches just because I'm a dad.

I continue to stare at her. There's a second during which our eyes meet, and that's when I see it happen. Her pupils dilate, and then contract into something completely animalistic while fur erupts from her skin, pink and purple and blue in color. Golden talons sprout from her fingertips and toes as her clothing vanishes, torn to shreds by the force of her transformation. She howls in agony as the bones of her legs crack and rearrange themselves, becoming more lupine in design.

Our eyes meet again, and I'm surprised at the yellow-blue-violet hue that hers have taken on.

Then she releases a feral screech and rushes me with a speed, grace, and ferocity that I didn't entirely expect. I only barely manage to get the Buster Sword up in time to block a vicious swipe that surely would've taken my head off had it connected. My heart leaps into my throat when I feel the sheer power, that indomitable, crackling energy, behind the blow.

She's really trying to kill me!

But I can't blame her. She doesn't seem like she's entirely aware of her actions at the moment, and as I dodge a kick that she aims for my stomach, I realize that I'm actually _scared._ Not so much for my own life, since I know that almost any damage that she does to me will be healed quickly by the Mako in my body, but for her own well-being. She's always so fearful of her own powers, afraid that she'll hurt one of her friends if she loses control. I don't know what she'll do if she hurts me while in this state.

It's not a comforting thought.

She shrieks again, a hollow, feral sound, but this time, it's not a physical attack that she launches at me. No, this time it's a barrage of magical spells. I manage to block the Holy spell, as well as the Blizzard and Firaga chain spells, and I only narrowly dodge the Flood spell she comes up with before I have to dance out of range of her Tornado spell and fight to keep it from pulling me in. It's the Thundaga that gets me, though, zinging up the Buster Sword and through my arms, sending me into convulsions so severe that I hear something in my back crack before pain explodes in me.

When I hit the ground again, I'm gasping around the agony that's engulfed the lumbar region of my back. I can barely see through the torturous haze that has almost fully enveloped my world, but I can see it very clearly when she dives down toward me.

She impacts with my chest a second later, shattering several of my ribs and driving the air from my lungs.

I nearly black out from the pain.

But something holds me there, something warm that grounds me in the conscious realm and won't let me fade.

"_Cloud…"_

That voice… So familiar…

"_C'mon, buddy, you can't give up now!"_

I can't even think of his name right now. But strength fills me for a split second, long enough to see past the pain and register that Terra's coming in fast for the killing strike. I manage to roll out of the way of her punch, which would've speared right through me had I been a hair slower. With adrenaline surging through my veins in place of my blood, I swing the Buster Sword around and hit her in the back of the head with the flat of my blade. I don't use my full strength, but it's more than enough to knock her out.

A second later, Terra hits the ground, back to normal though unconscious and naked, and I slump to my knees, shaking and panting and in a lot of pain, using the Buster Sword to hold myself up. Groaning, I just barely manage to summon my other set of clothes from subspace, as well as the blanket that I nicked from Zidane before we all got split up.

Needless to say, I haven't let him know about it, yet- I'm waiting until the opportune moment to throw it in his face that he's been robbed.

I only have seconds left before I pass out. I'm able to stagger over to Terra and spread the blanket over her. Then the spare clothes hit the ground with a faint rustle as I collapse beside her, unable to hold myself up any longer. The Buster Sword lands beside me with a clank of steel on stone.

I'm gone a second later.

* * *

When I wake again, it's to a throbbing ache that's filled my whole body and the sound of a familiar voice complaining about wimpy best friends.

"Shut up, Zack," I growl, and then it finally registers in my head who, exactly, I'm talking to. I sit up rapidly, groan at the pain that erupts from my innards and bones, and then struggle to my feet, using the Buster Sword as a crutch.

"_Hey, he's awake."_ I follow the voice to a crater in the pockmarked surface of the moon that we're on, and carefully descend into the depression. It causes my ribs and spine untold agony, but I ignore it. I _have_ to find Zack.

So imagine my surprise when I come upon a red Materia, instead. Slowly crouching next to it, I bite back a groan and pick it up, holding it in the palm of my hand.

"Zack, is that you?" I ask. "Please tell me I'm not having a hallucination."

"_You're having a hallucination." _The deadpan tone in his voice tells me he's being sarcastic. I'm so glad to hear his voice that I almost cry, but I force the emotion down and grin instead.

"I'm going to absorb the Materia, now," I explain. "Brace yourself."

I wait for his affirmative before I assimilate the orb. It hurts more than Fenrir and Griever did, but then again, I wasn't injured when I found them, either. Soon enough, I feel Zack's presence settling into the back of my mind, and I watch as the Materia dissolves into my skin.

'_Hey, buddy, if you summon me, I'll help you back over to your new friend,'_ Zack tells me. He seems a little disoriented, but that's to be expected. I take a painful breath, nod, and summon him.

Zack doesn't appear with any real theatrics, not like Fenrir and Griever do. All there is is a swirling column of Lifestream, and suddenly he's there, looking as hale as the day I first met him. He's still got that carefree grin on his face, and a sword made of pure energy is harnessed on his back.

"Hey, spike," he greets. "Good to see you in the flesh, again."

I grunt as my ribs twinge. "Same to you, Zack. But I don't think I can chat much right now."

Zack nods, and then comes over and loops my right arm across his shoulders, his other hand supporting me from my left side. The position puts a lot of pressure on my ribs, but I can't do anything but groan as he and I start making our way out of the crater. We're quiet for a long moment until we get to level ground again, and then Zack helps me hobble back over to where Terra is still unconscious. He's keeping strangely silent- I would've expected him to be chatting up a storm by now.

"I'm surprised you aren't talking my ear off." He looks at me, surprised, with wide violet eyes that glow with the Mako that still hasn't left them even in death. Then he laughs and lowers me to sit beside my unconscious companion.

"Well, it's not much fun to talk when you're not going to reply, is it?" he counters. I grunt, but it's an amused sound. We're quiet for a long time as I strip off my shirt and Zack examines my midsection.

"You wimp," he jibes a few minutes later. "It's not so bad."

"I'd forgotten how much I missed your absurdity," I mutter, and hiss when he presses his leather-gloved fingertips into my lower back. "That fucking hurts."

"Pansy," he counters, but it lacks his usual cheerful tone. He probes again. I gasp in pain, lights flashing in my eyes, and slump over with a groan, fisting my hands in the dark fabric of my pants.

"Do you have any Materia on you?" he asks. I grimace again.

"Yeah," I grit out. "Fire, Ice, Lightning, and Cure."

I sense Zack's concern more than I see it in his face. "Better get out that Cure Matera, then."

I huff out an affirmative and pop the aforementioned Materia into existence from my subspace pocket. Zack lets out a low whistle behind me.

"Nice trick," he quips, and then I feel his hand on my lower back. "This is going to hurt."

I just barely manage to get my tongue out of the way before he does something that makes my vision go white with pain, and my breath leaves my lungs in a rush. I can't tell if I'm screaming or not, but hey, cut me some slack. It frikkin' hurts.

Thankfully, the pain fades a second later, and I slump forward, exhausted, feeling Zack probing my ribs and spine again. It still hurts enough to make me stiffen in more than a little discomfort, but it's definitely not excruciating like before.

I sigh in relief and feel the muscles of my back loosen as I finally relax.

"Thanks," I manage to remember to say. Zack chuckles and, coming around to sit down in front of me, hands me my shirt.

"Got any bandages?" he asks. I nod, and produce my med-kit from my subspace pocket, handing the items to my best friend. As he moves back around to my side, I chuckle, finding his motions so familiar, so intrinsically _Zack,_ that it feels like I've stepped back in time.

I tell him as much when he inquires about my humor a second later. Then he laughs, too.

"Hey, you remember that time when we got drunk and started singing folk songs?" The sudden question startles a faint grin out of me when I recall the incident he's talking about.

"I was trying to teach you a song from Nibelheim," I remember. "You couldn't pronounce any of the words right."

Zack rolls his eyes and shoots me a Look. Yes, it's a Look. One of those ones that are a combination of exasperation, amusement, and _you-know-that-isn't-fucking-true-so-you'd-better-take-it-back-right-now-or-I'll-get-you-back._

"Well, excuse me for speaking a different native language than you do," he says, jabbing me lightly in my still-tender ribs. I wince. "As I recall, _you_ could barely pronounce any words to _my_ folk songs, either."

I manage a strangled grunt. "Two backwater boys with backwater backgrounds speaking backwater languages and singing backwater songs." I pause thoughtfully. "But we had fun."

Zack laughs as he ties off my bandages, and I take the opportunity to slip my shirt over my head with some difficulty.

"That we did," he agrees. I send him a smile and set about tucking my sweater into my pants as Terra begins to stir beside us. I glance over at her, and then to Zack.

"Terra's waking up," I murmur. "Turn away in case she somehow dislodges the blanket."

Deciding to practice what I preach, I pointedly keep my gaze off of Terra until I hear her fully wake up.

"You're awake," I greet. I hear her begin to get up. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Your transformation shredded your clothes. You're naked, right now."

Terra squeaks, and I catch a flurry of movement out of the corner of my eye.

"Do you have any spare outfits?" I query.

"Uh…" Her hesitance makes me want to roll my eyes. "No, not right now. It'll take me an hour or so to make a new one."

I nod. "Then you can borrow mine for now. They're sitting next to you."

I can see Terra shake her head. "No, I couldn't—"

"Yes, you can." My voice is firm, uncompromising. "And you will."

There's a pause. I think she's looking at Zack, but I'm not entirely sure. Then I see her grab my spare clothes and dive under the blanket again. She emerges a few minutes later, clad in my black fatigues and sweater, each of which have had their legs and sleeves rolled up several times to expose her feet and hands. She's cinched my belt down around her waist far enough that she's long since run out of belt holes and she's simply had to tie it. Overall, it's a rather ridiculous look on her, but that's understandable. She's much slighter of form than I am.

There's another pause.

"You alright?" I ask at length, finally turning to face her head-on. I can see Zack watching us, but I ignore him. This is between me and Terra.

She looks at me with confusion in her eyes, but I know that she knows what I'm talking about.

"Why didn't you run?" she asks. I briefly close my eyes, thinking back to the minutes before our catastrophic battle.

"I didn't wanna leave you there struggling," I answer at last. "But I couldn't think of another way."

There's a pause as she absorbs this admittance.

"Are you saying," she begins, "that you fought me just so you could calm my powers down?"

I can't look her in the eye as I try to hide my smile. She's reminding me a lot of Aerith.

"Sorry," I say. "I should have said something first." I pause, thinking, feeling my ribs ache in real and remembered pain. "But I didn't expect _that_ kind of power."

I snort with some amusement, and shake my head. "Maybe I should've just run."

There's a long moment of silence. I can sense Zack wanting to talk, but he's keeping his mouth shut while Terra and I work this out. I'll thank him later.

"Thank you." The quiet sentence draws my attention back to Terra.

"I don't deserve your thanks," I counter, keeping my voice neutral. "I wasn't sure if I could save you." I pause, a memory flashing to the front of my mind. "To be honest, I didn't know what to do."

"But you did end up saving me," she muses. "And I wanted to let you know that."

I give a slightly rueful smile and look away.

It seems that, even though I sometimes doubt myself and my abilities, there are still some things I _can_ handle.

"Is something wrong?" The gentle question draws my attention back to Terra even as it reminds me strongly of Aerith.

"No. Just remembered something that happened before," I reply. Then a thought hits me, and I look around. Right. Onion Knight is missing. "Anyway, where's the kid? Wasn't he with you all this time?"

Terra gasps and looks away, her eyes glazing as she reminisces.

"What happened was…" She trails off, and then scowls slightly. It's a foreign emotion on her normally placid face, and startles me a little to see it there. "Kefka happened. He kidnapped the boy when Onion Knight tried to protect me. I don't know where they are. I've been looking for him, but…"

I hum. "Alright. Let me help."

She looks over at me, looking vulnerable. "Are you sure?"

She has to ask? Shit, I must not be doing my job right.

"Just my way of thanking you," I say instead, "for letting me realize that even I can help someone."

She grins at me, and it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Seriously, she's so much like Aerith in that moment that I do a double-take, and I see Zack do the same. Nodding to myself, I get to my feet and look around.

"How long will it take you to make yourself a new set of clothes?" I ask again.

"About an hour."

"You make yourself a change of clothes," I instruct her. "There's no sense in walking right now. We'll move out in the morning. I suggest you get some sleep."

Terra nods. "Right."

I see her gaze flick in curiosity to Zack.

"Terra, this is my best friend, Zack Fair," I state, motioning to Zack, who waves. "Zack, this is Terra Branford, one of the Warriors of Cosmos."

Zack nears Terra, takes her hand in his own, and shakes it heartily.

"It's nice to meet you!" he chirps, grinning so broadly and genuinely that Terra can't help but return it. That's Zack for you.

"It's nice to meet you, as well," Terra returns. Then she scrutinizes him a little more closely. "Hey… Didn't Cloud say you were dead?"

Zack nods, and I look over at him.

"You know, I was wondering about that," I tell him. "How were you in a Summon Materia if you're a dead human?"

Zack shrugs. "I think it had something to do with my proximity to you when Cosmos called you to her world."

I blink. "Meaning that you were mistaken for a summon and sealed upon arrival?"

He nods. "Yep."

Blink. Blink. "Huh."

I shake myself out of my stupor.

"Zack, if you want to stay up, you can," I tell him. "I'm getting some shuteye while we're waiting. Wake me up when you want to go to sleep."

When Zack nods, I lay myself down, pillowing my head upon my arm, and slide the Buster Sword over near me, in reach in case we get attacked.

"Goodnight, Cloud," Terra says. I grunt, my eyelids drooping.

"G'night," I mutter.

The last thing I hear before I drift off is the laughter of my best friend and my traveling companion.

It's a nice sound.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own FFVII, AC, CC, DOC, or Dissidia._

_HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!_

_And I'm very sorry for the long, unexpected wait. I just finished this chapter today after a lot of struggle. Things've been a bit difficult lately despite it being spring break- I have to study for my last midterm and read Macbeth, as well as learn to use Microsoft Expression suite 3. It's a lot to juggle. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though._

_A big thank you goes to **Calenlass Greenleaf1** for reviewing the last chapter. You rock, Cal! And I'm really glad you're enjoying the battle scenes._

_Next chapter should be posted 3-20-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	12. Darkness

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 12: Darkness._**

* * *

_"When you are outnumbered and there are no other options, you have no choice: you must attack."_  
_–Anonymous._

* * *

It's been a week since I found Terra and Zack. In that time, we've traveled across two world fragments, been reunited with Onion Knight (who Zack had a lot of fun teasing for various reasons), taken down Kefka, been involved in an incident revolving around rotten eggs and a stash of moldy old socks (NOT. PRETTY.), and met back up with Tidus, Firion, and Cecil. We just found Squall, Zidane, and Bartz this morning. Now, we're trekking across the floor of a ruined old shrine, following the fading sounds of battle to where Aren is undoubtedly confronting Garland.

My sensitive ears pick up the sound of a Crystal appearing, as well as Aren's bewildered murmur. He must've just obtained his Crystal.

We're getting closer, now.

"The Crystal…" Aren's voice is wondering, awe-struck. But Garland's isn't when he cuts in a second later. I frown, and ascend to the second level of the shrine with ease, my booted feet making nary a sound as I dash up the wall.

"So, you have obtained it," Garland observes, but he doesn't sound beaten despite his posture. He's been brought to his knees by the might of the Warrior of Light. "The Crystal holds the power to sever the shackles of time."

"Then it has the power to bring this conflict to a close," Aren counters. Garland bears no outward agreement beneath the layers and layers of plate armor he wears, but I can hear the smugness in his voice when he concurs.

"And even put an end to the gods' existence."

Aren takes half a step forward, his posture radiating a subtle worry that I'm sure is reflected in my own expression.

"What did you say?" he demands. Garland's starting to vanish, thick black smoke roiling off of his armor.

"What would happen to the gods if all the Crystals were gathered?" I think he's laughing at something. "What would happen to the world if its cycle of conflicts was suddenly broken? Not even the gods could forsee the bedlam that awaits…"

Damn bastard!

Aren's looking at the poisonous purple clouds swirling overhead, but I can't see the expression on his face. I hear the others make it up to the second level behind me, and sense their slight confusion.

"We shall meet again," Garland states, "in the near future!" His demented laugh cackles through the air. I clench my fist.

Will we never be free of these battles? Will we never gain peace? Damn that bastard for thriving on our toils. I can only imagine what's going through Aren's head right now, but I really want to throttle someone. Namely a certain god of discord and his main minion. Grr.

A moment passes in silence.

Unsurprisingly, Zidane's the first one to walk towards our friend, his tone light as he congratulates Aren on getting his Crystal.

"Looks like you finally got it," is what the young man says. Aren turns and walks to meet us. I can sense my summons watching through my eyes. After all, this is really the only form of entertainment they get in there- my head, that is. It's like watching a movie on a big-screen TV with surround sound. At least, that's how Zack describes it. And they can add their own commentary at their leisure.

Sigh.

"Is everyone alright?" Aren sounds a little concerned, but that's just his personality. I shift a little, feel the pressure of the bandages wrapped around my ribs, and briefly think about telling him that no, I'm not alright. But the moment passes and I remain silent.

'_You should've told him,'_ Zack comments. _'Just to see his reaction. Maybe he'd have a hissy fit!'_

Oh, shut _up,_ Zack! And stop being so immature.

He snickers. _'You have to admit, the look on his face would probably be priceless.'_

I growl mentally, and he subsides with another almost-sinister chuckle.

"Of course!" Onion Knight is saying in response to Aren's question. "It was a piece of cake."

And now Firion has to chip in. "So now we all have our Crystals. We should get going!"

Okay, impatient much? I mean, I'm as eager as the rest of them to get this done and over with so that I can go home, but we could probably all use a bit of a break. I don't know how many of them are hiding injuries, but I know that I, at least, could do with some downtime.

But Aren's mind is on Cosmos, as usual.

'_Really, he should just ask her out and be done with it.'_ Zack, again. _'Who knows, maybe she'll accept and they can both get laid.'_

I choke on air and cough faintly, trying frantically to rid myself of the mental images that comment produces.

EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW.

I'm getting a couple strange looks from the others, though. I shake my head and clear my throat.

"I'm fine," I mutter. Aren nods and looks back at Firion.

"Yes," the Warrior of Light says so that we can all hear. "Let us hurry. Cosmos is waiting."

I turn away and bow my head, hiding behind my bangs so that the rest of them can't see the blush that is surely there. Seriously, it feels as though I could fry a Chocobo egg on my face, which is really saying something. As the rest of them follow my lead and start heading for the portal that'll take us to Cosmos' sanctuary, I growl mentally at Zack.

Zack. Seriously, get a filter, man!

I can sense his unabashed grin. _'But it's so much fun to see you squirm!'_

Griever stirs with sleepy amusement. _'You truly are amusing when flustered.'_

Thanks, guys. _So_ much.

I hear Aren's footsteps pause briefly, and I stop to look back at him. He's closed his eyes, obviously thinking. I wait for him as the rest of the group continues on. Zidane and Bartz are bickering, again, and Terra is having an amiable discussion about the pros and cons of white and black magic with Cecil and Onion Knight. Squall is being taciturn, as usual, and Firion is having a conversation with Tidus about Blitzball. None of them notice that Aren and I have fallen behind, and frankly, I don't mind.

I turn to look at him as he finally catches up to me a second later.

"You alright?" I ask him. I remember that he asked us, but nobody inquired after his health.

Aren looks over at me, and I can see that he's tired. But his determination and drive are as strong as ever, and I know that he's good for at least a few more hours.

"I am well," he replies.

It's a lie. His usual limp is more pronounced, and he's holding himself gingerly. I circle around in front of him and stop, forcing him to halt or run into me. I frown slightly at him as I study him from head to toe.

There's blood seeping out of a gash in his left thigh, and I can see a dent in his chest armor over the right side of his ribcage. I nod at the injuries.

"From Garland?" I ask. Aren's pretty stoic, and I can't read his expression too well.

A long moment passes.

"Yes," he says at last. "He got a good gash into my leg about two minutes before I defeated him, and he managed to throw me into one of the pillars on the first level at the start of the fight."

I nod, and summon my Restore Materia from my subspace pocket. The Cura I cast makes his leg glow briefly, the flesh knitting itself together, and then the armor mends itself, as well. The dent in his breastplate pops outward again. Aren breathes a sigh of relief a second later, holding himself a bit more easily. He nods to me when the spell finishes.

"Thank you," he says. I hum in acknowledgment.

"I figured you wouldn't want Terra worrying about you," I state. He gives me a knowing little smirk of what seems to be agreement.

We don't say anything more, just continue on our way.

* * *

Cosmos is looking despondent when we finally arrive at her sanctuary. Aren approaches the rest of us where we've gathered, and then nods firmly. We're all ready to end this.

Nearing the goddess, I can see that she looks weaker than I last remembered. Maybe she's lost some of her strength since she sent us that astral projection at the beginning of our journeys? Regardless, she doesn't look good. She looks… _defeated._ Resigned, determined. The back of my neck prickles, and I can feel the fluttering in my stomach that I usually associate with the 'Oh-the-shit's-about-to-hit-the-fan' instinct that I've developed over the years.

"Let's end this fight, here and now," Aren says, drawing his crystal to hold it in the palm of his hand. I summon the White Materia from my subspace pocket and cradle it loosely between my fingers, wondering absently what I should do with it. Does it function like normal Materia?

I nod and narrow my eyes, determined. But Cosmos is shaking her head.

"No… It has already been settled."

Oh, shit. I fucking _hate_ it when I'm right.

Pyreflies are beginning to float off of Cosmos' body. It's not long before she collapses to the ground with a soft cry of pain.

"Your fate is to fall," she murmurs through gritted teeth, "into true darkness."

I fucking hate my life.

Red light flashes around us, and I gaze around, not truly surprised as the terrain shifts to a land of fire and brimstone. There are some freaking huge-ass swords stuck in the ground, and the air reeks of sulfur. It's really hot.

"Cosmos!" The shout comes from Tidus, and I turn to him to find him gazing at Cosmos, who somehow moved behind us while we were distracted. Then my gaze is drawn to the hulking figure looming over the goddess I've fought for for all this time.

His skin is a nasty greenish color, the exact color of puke, and his hands are tipped in red, as though they've been bathed in blood so many times that they've forgotten what their color originally was. He's got four arms, and he's being held aloft by a pair of night-black wings. A pair of horns juts out from his forehead, and he doesn't have any lips, so a set of yellowed, needle-sharp teeth is exposed to the tepid air. He has what looks like skulls adorning most of his body.

"Chaos." Cosmos' greeting is short, and would have been almost curt if she wasn't frowning as she said it.

Tidus leaps forward to protect Cosmos, but there's a flash, and a high-pitched screech blasts through my eardrums, sending me to my knees, retching. I can't see straight, anymore, though I don't think any of the rest of them have been effected like I have. Then again, they don't have enhanced senses like I do, either. Zack is groaning in the back of my mind, and if Fenrir were tangible at the moment, he'd have his paws over his ears. Griever is yowling something incomprehensible.

The sound fades soon enough, but I'm dizzy enough that when I try to stand, the world sways and I slump to the side before I catch myself and manage to keep myself halfway upright. There's a massive force pressing down on my body a second later, and I find that I can't move a muscle.

"For all your wandering, still you end up in purgatory," the demon, Chaos, is saying. His voice is like velvet and gravel all at once, deep with the groaning of the earth and wispy like the breath of the wind at the same time. "What a shame, Cosmos."

But Cosmos seems unruffled. "This is not for you to decide. What they must know is true darkness…"

I think Chaos is smirking. "Your wish shall be granted… I will extinguish all light!"

My world is beginning to right itself as he says this, and I see him sweep a hand forward. A circle of flames dances into existence at Cosmos' feet, and I feel alarm spread through my entire body when she makes no move to avoid the destructive power. Suddenly, a pillar of fire shoots up around her, swirling and blazingly hot, before an explosion rocks the area.

"Cosmos!" It's Squall, this time, and I would do something, _I should do something,_ but I _can't move_ and my head is spinning and _fuck I can't fucking move my arms!_

She turns to look at us one more time. Then she vanishes into the red light of the flames.

My blood runs cold. Nausea makes my guts roil, and I collapse to retch once more, another memory, of flames on silver, superimposing itself over the current sight in my vision.

It's just like Nibelheim.

I can only watch with wide eyes, tasting vomit in my mouth, as the pillar of fire dissipates, leaving only a few pyreflies to glitter in the gloom. I can hear my companions' gasps of realization, the realization that I came to moments before they did.

At least Chaos seems to have enough respect not to laugh.

"The world is unchanging," he rumbles, and turns away, flaring his wings.

My world goes black.

"Powerless beings… Fall into the shadows of despair and begone."

And suddenly, I can see again. I get shakily to my feet, spitting onto the ground and wiping my mouth on the back of my glove. My knees are still shaking from whatever that supersonic thing Chaos did was, and my mind is still racing with images of Nibelheim and Cosmos' death.

"Wha-?" Tidus' alarmed shout pierces through my thoughts, and I whirl to see that he's glowing, surrounded by pyreflies.

I hear Zidane's gasp a second later, and turn to find that the same is happening to him. Bartz starts glowing an instant after Zidane. Soon enough, all of them are glowing. I look down at myself.

Why am I not glowing, too?

I hear Tidus drop to the ground, and turn at his panicked shout in time to see him vanish in a swirl of pyreflies.

"Tidus?!" Zidane and Bartz actually sound as scared as I feel, though I don't show it. I keep my features schooled as a low, gravelly chuckle rings across the battlefield. It's a tall man wearing ornate armor that's light blue in color, but he doesn't… He doesn't seem human.

Exdeath, I think he's called.

"The conflict of the gods has ended," he says, gesturing vaguely with his right hand. "Now you pawns must fade to darkness."

"You're getting what you deserve." When did Kefka get here? The blond sociopath looks maniacally calm. "After all, Cosmos died because of what you did!"

Damn, that cackle's annoying. And why am I the only one who's not glowing?

'_Consider yourself lucky that you're not vanishing,' _Zack advises. _'You can gather information that might help you in the future.'_

Right, I'll keep that in mind.

A tingle slowly spreads from my fingertips up my arms. I look down to find that I can _see through my hand._ Oh, _fuck._

"What did you say?!" demands Zidane, right before he gasps and vanishes with a cry of fear.

Fear. It's thick in the air, so thick that I can taste it. My companions all smell of fear. They positively _reek_ of it. I'm scared, too, but I've also resigned myself to whatever may come. God, I only hope that Tifa and the kids will be okay. I hope that they can move on without me, and that Tifa won't be angry at me for not being able to come home.

Squall is the next one to go, and then Terra and Bartz and Cecil. I can feel my strength evaporating.

"It's better that you disappear than to know the brutal truth," Kefka sighs, sounding almost apologetic if not for the grin on his features. Demented fucktard of a clown. His leer is positively _evil._ "Trust me."

"Fear not," Exdeath rumbles. I sink to my knees as first Onion Knight vanishes, and then Firion disappears. Aren isn't looking too good, either. "I will wait until you are gone before I return the world to the Void."

Kefka erupts into maniacal laughter, and I snap.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, and before I know it, the Buster Sword is in my hand and I'm running toward the villains with a ragged cry of pure, unadulterated rage. And Kefka's still laughing, the fucker, _pointing and laughing._

I'm going to kill that fucking clown, if it's the last thing I ever do.

I'm ten feet away. My legs are starting to go. Five feet. I leap into the air, bringing the Buster Sword above my head in preparation for my Braver attack.

Two feet away, and seven feet above them, I swing my blade downward, aiming for a killing strike. Two inches from Kefka's forehead, a long, silver katana intercepts the stroke and knocks me away even as it draws a line of fire across my chest.

I'm out of time. Damn it.

Lying on my back, I gaze up through fading vision at a silver-haired monster. It's in that moment that his features morph into something that I only see in my worst nightmares, and it's in that moment of sheer, terrible _horror_ that I know _exactly_ what he really is.

Then blackness engulfs me. True blackness, inescapable, complete.

It's cold. Ice-cold.

I shiver, wanting to throw up again. It's just like being back in Hojo's lab. I can even hear the bastard's cackle. Something sharp spears into the skin of my chest, drawing a line of blazing agony down my torso. Pain shoots through my skull as fire slices into the skin beneath my left eye. Screams pierce through the utter silence. Screams belonging Tifa, my mother, Aerith, Zack, Rinoa, Sephiroth, Denzel, and Marlene. They sound like…

No. No, no, nono_nonono__**nonoNONONO!!**_

I scream.

And scream.

And scream, until my throat bleeds and I'm choking and gagging on the taste of the copper that fills my mouth and tears are running down my cheeks and I can't breathe because I'm so petrified. I'm drowning in blood, and my whole body is burning from the Mako again.

I scream one more time. My voice breaks.

Then, like a physical switch getting flipped in my head, light appears. The White Materia floats out of my pocket, becoming a beacon of light and hope as it hovers before me. Then other Crystals begin appearing, glowing softly, then brighter and brighter and _brighter_ until the black fades to grey and then blinding _white._

My feet hit solid ground with a _thud_ and I sprawl, face-down, in an inch of water, shaking and gasping and sobbing silently. It's a long moment before I register that the White Materia has found its way into my hand. I grip it tightly, holding it like a lifeline as I slowly calm my breathing so that I'm not crying any more.

I can hear Terra speaking over the sound of my shallow inhalations.

"Could this be… Cosmos' doing?" she asks. Thank God none of them seem to have noticed me.

"But they said _we_ were the ones who killed Cosmos," Cecil interjects. Firion sounds determined when he adds his own two cents.

"I think we should find out the truth," he says.

"Why Cosmos had to disappear," Bartz agrees, sounding confused. "If _we_ have to disappear as well… We've _got_ to get some answers."

I swallow, finally gaining some control over myself again, and splash some water over my face before hauling myself shakily to my knees, bracing myself against the ground. I'm not filled with determination or even courage when I speak. Hell, I'm scared shitless. But only sheer stubbornness is going to get me through this right now.

"We're not gonna let them have their way." I can't meet any of their gazes, though, staring at the Materia clenched in my hand.

There's a long moment of silence, during which everyone basks in the warm glow of determination and the fact that we have a common goal. We can face our enemies as a united front, not as the divided force we were before.

It's still not comforting.

It's then that I feel thick warmth drip down my cheek, darting from water droplet to water droplet as it makes my way to my chin. The front of my sweater is getting hot, too.

I smell blood.

Terra's the first to notice.

"Cloud!" she exclaims, hurrying over to me. I look up at her, but a wave of dizziness makes me sway in place, my vision skewing. I feel her hands on my shoulders, keeping me upright.

"You're bleeding." Thanks, Terra. You just stated the completely and totally obvious. I feel her touch my face, feel her brush her fingertips across the scar underneath my left eye.

"Yeah," I whisper. Then my world swirls.

I barely hear Terra telling me to stay awake.

Shit. I'm unconscious again.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own FFVII, Dissidia, Crisis Core, Dirge of Cerberus, or any characters or places affiliated with them._

_Did anyone besides me notice that, in the scene that this takes place in during the game, after Tidus disappears and the camera zooms out to show the Warriors of Cosmos staring at Kefka and Exdeath, Cloud is the only one who **doesn't** have pyreflies coming off of him? I thought it was weird, and I know that it's probably an oversight on the animators' part, but I just had to add it in. XD_

_Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's an hour and fifteen minutes late, but it's here, and relatively on time, for once. I had a morbidly large amount of fun while writing this chapter, and I think Cloud wants to kill me again. *grin grin*_

_If anyone manages to predict where I'm going with the whole Sephiroth issue, I'll send you a cyber pie and cookies. XD Because pie is my specialty and almost everyone likes cookies._

_Thank you to **Calenlass Greenleaf1** for reviewing the last chapter, and a huge thank you goes out to newcomer **Ayame Harushino** for reviewing chapter six. To Cal, I'm glad you love Zack in here. He's always been one of my favorite characters, and I LOVE writing him. He's a hoot. I hope you liked their short banter in this chapter, too, though it was of a slightly more serious nature. And to Ayame: I like Sephiroth's fear of thunder, too. I was trying to give him what I feel would be a perfectly rational fear at the age of three, and it's entirely plausible that he could've been scared of thunder when he was a kid even in the games. He just would've learned to hide it really quickly, but since he's not in the labs, here, he's much more open about his emotions, and much more childlike in many aspects. I hope that I'm able to portray this well._

_You guys both rock!_

_Next chapter should be posted 3-25-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	13. Story

_**  
Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

_**Chapter 13: Story.**_

* * *

_"Words are powerful things. They can destroy and they can heal, they can define, they can tell stories. What story will you tell with your gift of words?"  
--Anonymous._

* * *

My awakening this time is very, very gradual. In fact, I don't even really realize that I'm awake until I blink and find myself staring up at the stars. My vision is blurry at first, but I can make out Terra's visage somewhere close off to my left, and there's firelight flickering off of her face.

Strangely, sensation doesn't come back to me right away like it usually does. It takes a moment before the dull, slow-burning agony in my body registers in my foggy mind. Still, it's unexpected, and I gasp and grimace as a sudden flare in my chest makes me grit my teeth. A second later, Terra's bent over me, looking concerned, and then relieved when she finds out that I'm awake.

"Cloud!" she exclaims. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

Ow. Fucking _ow._

Needless to say, I don't tell her that. My mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and my throat is utterly parched. I can still taste vomit.

Shit.

"…Li' shi'," I slur. Terra blinks, and then looks up at something off to my right. I can faintly hear footsteps. Then my head starts pounding and I hiss, wincing.

Augh. I _hate_ noises and lights.

Aren kneels at my right a moment after that. He looks at me like he's seen something disturbing.

"How do you feel?" he asks. I squint up at him and _glare._

"I don't think he's feeling very well at all," Terra tells him.

_Thank_ you for not making me speak.

Aren nods, and then fishes at his hip for a moment before withdrawing a water bottle made of leather that I've seen him carrying around many times. He pulls the cork out and then reaches down to slip his arm behind my shoulders.

_Fucking __**ow.**_

My entire body explodes in agony when he levers me up into a sitting position, and I feel wounds being stretched that I don't even remember obtaining. It takes a second before I realize that the lines of fire blazing across my body correlate to the exact positions of the vivisection scars that I obtained during both of my tenures as Hojo's lab rat. Also hurting are the scars I received from Masamune at Sephiroth's hands, as well as the gunshot wound to my aorta that I took from Yazoo during the Advent Crisis. The most obvious wound that I should be feeling is the recent one I got after assaulting Kefka and Exdeath before I vanished into the darkness, but that pain seems almost dull compared to the rest of them.

It takes another second for me to be able to think through the haze of pain and realize that I'm naked but for the bandaging wrapping most of my body and a blanket that has just slipped down to pool in my lap.

Shit.

But I can't do anything more than sit there in silent mortification while Aren tilts my head up and puts the rim of the bottle to my lips. I'm able to open my mouth just before he tips a slow stream of water into my mouth.

Ah, heaven!

I try to swallow, but the water sticks in the back of my throat for a second and I choke briefly. Aren hurriedly pulls the bottle away as I cough, wincing. Then it goes down and I gasp in relief, finally able to breathe properly again. He puts the bottle to my stinging lips again. This time, I'm able to swallow without trouble.

Still, I'm not able to take more than a few mouthfuls before I have to pull away with a frown. My guts ache too much for me to drink anymore, even though I know I'm severely dehydrated.

Aren is surprisingly gentle when he lays me back down. I can feel grass through my bandages and against my bare skin. My head comes to rest on something soft, and I realize that somebody's rolled up my spare clothes as a makeshift pillow.

Terra moves in a second later, gently pulling the blanket back up to my shoulders as I feel my cheeks heat slightly. I don't have enough blood in my body for a full-out blush, but I'm embarrassed enough that some of what I have left makes its way to my face anyway.

It takes me a second to work out the question I want to ask.

"How…" Is that my voice?! I sound like a bullfrog! "How long've I… been out…?"

Terra's not smiling. She looks concerned and relieved at the same time.

"Three days," she replies, and I suck in a breath of surprise.

"Wha-?"

But Aren's shaking his head. "You lost a lot of blood before we managed to heal you. The wounds on your chest and shoulder wouldn't stop bleeding even after we cast Curaga on you."

I relax slightly back into the grass, my breath hissing out between my teeth in a mix of exasperation, relief, and comprehension. Strange, the bare ground has never felt so comfortable before now.

"I wouldn't expect them to," I reply. It's getting easier to talk, but my throat still hurts and my voice is rough. "Wounds made by the Masamune don't heal easy."

Terra and Aren blink.

"The Masamune?" Terra echoes.

"That's Sephiroth's sword, isn't it?" Zidane has come over as he asks the question, and Bartz and Tidus are following him, all of them looking oddly glad to see me awake.

I nod. "Yeah."

Tidus sighs and sits down next to Terra, crossing his legs in a position that I recognize as the Wutaian Lotus style. His ankles are resting on his knees in an incredible display of flexibility. I've never been able to sit like that, even with all my training. I just don't bend that way.

There's a second of silence.

"Cloud?" It's Tidus who speaks, this time, and I look over at him to find him looking studiously at me.

I blink. "What?"

His sapphire eyes scrutinize me. "Those other scars on you, the ones that healed. They looked like autopsy cuts."

I briefly wonder how Tidus, an "Ace Blitzball player from the Zanarkand Abes," would know that. Then I decide that I'm too tired to pry.

I close my eyes and exhale, the painful memories filtering into my thoughts.

"I…" I pause, hesitating. "I don't like to talk about it."

I look away, hoping that he'll take the hint and drop the subject, but Tidus is stubborn if not smart, and once he latches onto something (whether it's an idea or the last piece of roast rabbit that we've had for supper), he doesn't let go without a fight.

"What happened?" Shit. He asked it.

I keep my mouth shut, trying to formulate an answer.

"Tidus?" asks Terra. I swallow at the sound of her voice. "What's an autopsy?"

I draw in a breath.

"An autopsy is a physical examination performed on a corpse to find out how it died," I intone softly, and I can feel their stares on me. "It usually involves cutting open their thoracic and abdominopelvic cavities and removing their organs. Sometimes cutting open the head and removing the brain, as well, if it's obvious that a blow to the head is what killed the person."

Dead silence.

"But obviously, I wasn't involved in an autopsy, seeing as I'm not dead." Still nothing. I feel nausea curl in the pit of my stomach, and there's a bad taste in the back of my mouth.

"Vivisection. It's an invasive surgery conducted on a living organism in order to view living internal structures," I continue softly, unable to meet anybody's gaze.

More dead silence.

"You were experimented on?" This time, it's Bartz who asks. I can hear footsteps and the creak of leather. Squall has just walked over.

Groan. Is _everybody_ going to join in on this conversation? I mean, I can understand being worried, but isn't this a bit of overkill? …No pun intended.

"Yes, alright?" I growl, and shut my eyes with a grimace as I do my best to turn on my side and curl in on myself. It hurts like a bitch, but I manage it, and painfully drag the blanket up over my chin.

"I really don't like to talk about it," I whisper. There's a slight breeze on my shoulders, but that's all, and I know that my hips and legs are fully covered.

A long second passes during which nobody speaks, and I don't think anybody breathes, either.

"Cloud…" It's Terra.

My temper flares, and I sit up fast, glaring around at them all before the pain catches up with me and I slump over with a groan. I knock away Aren's hands when he tries to help me, and, panting through the blaze of agony, I glare at each of them in turn.

"You don't need to know about it!" I snap. "Just because I have a violent, bloody past doesn't mean you can gawk at me like I'm some freak-show! I got that enough in the labs, I don't need it from you guys, too!"

And just like that, my surge of strength is gone and I sway with a groan, my eyes fluttering as blood rushes to my head. This time, I allow Aren to catch me, knowing that I'll probably fall over if I don't.

When I look up at them, nobody is looking at me, either staring at their feet or hands or the ground or the sky or even the campfire.

'_You didn't have to be so mean.'_ Fuck. Not Zack, too. _'They're just concerned, that's all.'_

Curious, is more like it. Sticking their noses where they don't need to.

'_Cloud.'_

What?

'_Shut the hell up. And answer their questions if they ask again.'_

Argh! You're on _their_ side?!

'_No,'_ he says, and his voice is serious, something that I haven't heard since he asked me if we were friends in that blurred memory I have of the year we spent evading Shinra after escaping Hojo's lab.

'_I want to help you, just like they do. And they can't do that without first gaining an understanding of you and your past.' _He pauses. _'Most of them have been very open about their experiences, whether good or bad, and it's built a bond of trust in this group of yours. Even I can see it, and I'm a new arrival.'_

Zack pauses. _'But you don't have that trust, at least not to the same extent. Neither does Squall, and he's been pretty tight-lipped about himself, too.'_

I remain silent, choosing to listen to my best friend's counsel. He seems glad that I'm not outright rejecting what he's saying.

'_I think, to defeat Chaos and come out alive, you're all going to need that trust to be strong and solid, and it's not going to be like that if you keep pushing them away, Cloud. I'm not saying that you should tell them all the gory details of the experiments, but you should at least give them an overview of what happened. It'll also give them some insight into how Sephiroth's mind works in case they end up facing him.'_

I sigh heavily.

You're right, Zack. God knows I hate admitting it, but you're right.

I sense his grin. _'That's 'cause I'm just pure awesomeness.'_

I snort faintly.

You're full of it.

'_So're you,' _he retorts. _'Now start talking, they're looking at you funny.'_

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes, and open my mouth.

"It all started in a small, backwater town called Nibelheim," I intone softly, and then take a deep breath, reaching shakily behind me and grabbing my spare sweater. I have to get Aren's help to shake it out and slip it over my head, because I can't raise my arms without pulling my wounds, and it hurts and it would be very bad if I reopened them after the sparse amount of healing they've achieved.

As the fabric slips past my ears, I can almost hear them exchange glances before they make themselves comfortable. It's only after I've gotten my head and arms through that I realize that they've all circled me and most of them are sitting down, looking interested. Only Squall is feigning disinterest, but I can see the way his grey-blue eyes are flicking toward me on occasion.

I take a deep breath.

"Back then, Sephiroth was a great hero, a general in the army," I explain. "All the young men wanted to be him. I… wasn't very well-liked in my hometown- Nibelheim, that is- and I'd never fit there. I used to get into fights all the time as a kid. Anyway, I left the spring I turned fourteen to join the army, and traveled to Midgar with many of the other boys from Nibelheim."

A couple soft gasps echo from the group at that revelation.

"Fourteen?" questions Cecil. I nod.

"Fourteen," I affirm. "It wasn't uncommon. There was a war going on between the Western Continent's inhabitants of Wutai, and the Shinra Electric Power Company, the conglomerate that essentially ruled the world. They were accepting people in at ridiculously young ages in order to feed their army, fill their quota for cannon fodder. Technically speaking, I was thirteen when I left."

I pause. "But that's beside the point. Anyway, I got to Midgar in May and enlisted in the general Infantry as a grunt. The war ended about a year or so later. Around the same time, several members of an elite group of warriors, called SOLDIER, went missing in action. They were declared dead to the public, but anybody on the inside with two brain cells to rub together knew the truth: they deserted."

I stop for breath and to clear my throat. Aren is still holding me up, but I don't want his help. I shake my head, gently push his hands away, and summon First Tsurugi from my subspace pocket. I'm only barely able to sink the blade into the ground behind me before I slump back against the cool metal, my body trembling faintly.

"A lot of things happened at that time that I only learned about later from the man who became my best friend," I continue with a sigh. "He could probably tell you more about it. As it was, I wasn't told much since I was of such an insignificant rank. You know how it is."

When most of them nod, I take another breath and lean my head wearily back against First Tsurugi, feeling older than I am.

"Shit happened," I say quietly. "At least one of the Firsts that deserted was killed later that summer. I applied for the SOLDIER program that autumn and was rejected." I hesitate, then bite the bullet and get on with my story. "The next summer rolled around. Sephiroth, my best friend, another infantryman, and I were deployed on a mission to Nibelheim to investigate the reactor there because reports had been coming in of mutated monsters roaming around and causing general mayhem."

My throat closes up on me as I remember what happened. I cough lightly, trying to clear my airways. Aren, thinking that I need a drink, offers me the water bottle again. I take it gratefully, gazing around at them as I take a couple small sips. My insides are still hurting, but not as badly as before.

Somewhere along the line, Onion Knight has joined us, as well, and Firion is standing next to Cecil behind Terra. Most of them are watching me with rapt expressions, eager to learn about my past. I don't think I've felt this awkward since the last time I tried to make a speech in front of a crowd. Considering that that speech was made at Cid and Shera's wedding before the DeepGround incident, and considering the fact that there were about two hundred or so people in attendance… Well, let's just say that the only reason I got up there for a speech was at Tifa's urging and after I'd been fortified with about six shots of tequila. And I was still only buzzed by that time. Yay for liquid courage.

Too bad I don't have any of that here. Shit.

Okay, Cloud. Deep breath.

I don't hand the bottle back to Aren, but hold it in my lap, absently fiddling with the string holding the cork on it as a way to distract myself a little bit from the pain of the memories I'm about to relive.

"While we were there, Sephiroth…" I pause. Swallow. "He learned some things about his origins. Things that drove him insane, that would've driven me insane had I been in his shoes. He…" My breathing is starting to pick up, my head is starting to pound, and I can feel my palms beginning to sweat.

I can see the flames consuming the buildings of my hometown, feel the heat of the flames as they lick my hands, burn my arms. I can hear the screams of the dying, of the people still trapped inside… I hear my mother screaming as she's burned alive, unable to get out of our house despite my best efforts.

"He burned down my hometown and killed everybody in it," I say quietly, trying to keep my voice level. "My mother was burned alive even as I tried to get her out of our home. Tifa- my fiancée- she lived there with her father, working as a mountain guide who took people up to the reactor on Mount Nibel. She got out okay, but she went after Sephiroth, who'd gone to the reactor by that time. She… I was knocked out by Sephiroth soon after failing to save my mother, and I caught up with them later at the reactor. Tifa's father had gone to stop Sephiroth, but had been killed. I later found out that Tifa had tried to kill Sephiroth out of revenge. I… I was too late to keep her from being critically wounded."

I pause and draw a shaking breath. Damn, I _really_ wish I had some tequila right now.

"While I was on my way to the reactor, my best friend had long since arrived at the scene and was confronting Sephiroth," I continue. "I arrived just as my friend was beaten, and Sephiroth went into the main reactor chamber to claim his 'Mother', JENOVA. I made sure Tifa and my friend would be okay. Then I took up the Buster Sword- my friend's sword, at the time- and went after Sephiroth."

Terra gasps.

"Is that how you got that nasty scar?" she asks, gesturing vaguely to the area around my solar plexus. I shake my head slowly.

"Not quite," I reply. Then I hesitate. "It was… dishonorable, what I did… but I was so enraged, so hurt by the death of my mother and the burning of my hometown that I didn't care. And Sephiroth was so engrossed with JENOVA that he didn't even notice when I snuck up behind him. He didn't notice until he had the Buster Sword sticking through his guts."

I glimpse Zidane suppressing a shiver. I can only imagine what my expression must look like right now, but I think that it's the lack of expression I'm displaying that's unnerving them.

"I was foolish." I scowl briefly as I remember. "I left him there, left him alive, and went back to Tifa to try to get some help for her. But Sephiroth didn't die from that wound. No, the bastard was still alive. He staggered out, holding JENOVA's head. My friend told me to finish Sephiroth off. Still enraged, but thinking a little more rationally, I took up the Buster Sword again and charged him."

Terra gasps again. I almost don't hear her, absorbed in my memories.

"But even though he'd been almost cut in half, he was still the best fighter on the planet," I murmur. "He intercepted my strike easily and batted me back into the main reactor chamber as though I was a fly he was swatting. I was stunned from the blow, and couldn't get up in time to prevent him from running me through."

I chuckle bitterly, and grit my teeth as the wound aches sharply in remembered pain.

"He lifted me up off the ground in order to taunt me," I continue quietly. "But I was half-mad, myself, by that time, running off of adrenaline and anger and the need for revenge. I pulled myself along the Masamune, forced it through my body even further, until I managed to get my feet on the ground, lift Sephiroth off balance, and throw him over the side of the platform into the Lifestream below."

I'd stop for a breath of relief, but I know that the worst is yet to come. I think that the others can sense that.

"I removed the sword from my guts and managed to make it back out to the stairs before I collapsed." I hesitate. This is where my memory gets fuzzy, but the parts I _can_ remember are things I don't want to. "I can't remember too much after that. All I know is that I was taken by Professor Hojo as a specimen. He was the head of Shinra's science department, and about as depraved as they come."

There's a brief moment of silence after I make this claim, and I look up to find them exchanging dubious glances. I blink.

"You don't believe me?" I ask. Terra shakes her head.

"We believe you," she says. "But… More depraved than Kefka?"

I chuckle darkly, and then pay for my black humor when my guts twinge. I wince and rub my stomach.

"Oww, shouldn't have done that," I mutter, and then take a steadying breath and look at Terra. "I don't know what Kefka's done in your world, but if it's anything like what Hojo's done, then I'll freely admit to him being up at the top of that list. 'Top One-Hundred Depraved Mad Scientists of All Time,' that's what we can call it."

This elicits a couple chuckles from those gathered around me.

"Anyway, the next thing I can remember clearly is waking up on a cliff top five years later just in time to watch my best friend die," I say. "I was… My head was really… messed up at that time. I'd been catatonic for the better part of two years by that time, due to Mako poisoning that I contracted while I was a lab rat, and it had really screwed with my mind. Zack…" I close my eyes, the memory cutting into my soul. "Zack had told me many things about himself, his dreams, his plans, during the time that we were evading Shinra's goons. His dying wish was that I live out both our lives for him. I essentially took on his memories and personality for a while."

I pause again, gathering my thoughts and taking another sip of water. I can feel my eyelids getting heavy, but I want to get this story finished before I fall asleep, or I may never have the guts to finish telling it.

"Cloud, you should probably rest," says Aren, echoing my thoughts. I shake my head.

"I'm fine," I grunt, but it's a weak protest and I know it. I see him open his mouth to refute that, but I plow on before he can speak. "As it turns out, I did manage to kill Sephiroth, but his will to live was strong enough that, even controlled by JENOVA, he was able to keep his soul separate from the others in the Lifestream. I'm not going to go into details, but basically, a group of friends and I ended up having to stop him from summoning something called Meteor in order to destroy the planet. We succeeded, but one of our friends was killed along the way. Aerith was her name."

There's a bout of silence after this revelation, and I take the pause to take a sip of water from the canteen.

"But…" This time, it's Cecil who's talking. "Isn't Aerith your daughter?"

How'd I know that that was going to come up?

"Adopted," I reply, deadpan. "She was reborn about seven months ago. Sephiroth was reborn free of JENOVA's influence about two years or so ago, and we adopted him at the same time as we took in Aerith."

I take another sip of water, then clear my throat.

"After our journey was over, we had two years of relative peace," I continue. "During that time, a pandemic spread across our planet. The illness was called Geostigma. It would leave black bruising along your skin, and as it slowly killed you, you were wracked with pain, and sometimes you'd see memories that weren't yours." I pause, scowling, rubbing my left arm absently.

"Did you have Geostigma?" I look over to Onion Knight, who's staring at me intently, waiting for an answer to his question.

"…Yeah," I reply after a moment. "Two years after we defeated Sephiroth, children began disappearing from around the world. We fought some battles… and found out that the Geostigma was caused by JENOVA cells that had been spread into the Lifestream by three Sephiroth clones. Their names were Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo, and they were trying to resurrect Sephiroth. I fought them, and when I had nearly killed Kadaj, he assimilated a large cluster of JENOVA cells into himself and transformed into a perfect copy of Sephiroth.

"I fought him, as well, and that's where he gave me this scar, here." I gesture to the bandages on my right shoulder, underneath which lies the still-bleeding scar that they tried unsuccessfully to heal. "I defeated him, and he reverted back to Kadaj shortly after. He died in even less time. I was shot in the back by Yazoo only a moment after that, here–" I point to the gunshot scar in my chest, "and was caught in the explosion when he and Loz overloaded their Materia and self-destructed." I pause thoughtfully.

"I died, that day." My voice is soft. "But Aerith and Zack sent me back. They said it wasn't my time, yet. So I went back. There was holy water pooling in a church. It healed everybody's Geostigma… We all thought that that was the end of everything, the end of all the battles, of all the bloodshed…"

I trail off into memory, recollections of the DeepGround Incident flashing through my mind.

"But?" asked Aren. I blink and look over at him, finding his gaze intent on my face, a strangely childlike eagerness in his sapphire eyes.

He's really into this story. Huh. Who'da thunk it?

"About a year after that, we found out that there was an underground organization building an army," I tell them, shrugging. "Shit happened. I didn't play that big a part in the events of the crisis that followed, but I was there during the final battle. My friend, Vincent, was the one who finally took down the Omega Weapon, which was DeepGround's last-ditch effort to take down any attackers in case they were shut down. Vincent disappeared for a while after that, but he eventually returned to Edge, where we live, with our friend Yuffie with him. That was three months after DeepGround, and it was also the night I was captured by Hojo."

My throat itches, and my voice is getting ragged. I cough into the crook of my elbow, then take another drink.

"So, is that where you got those vi… vizisecors scars?" asks Firion, stumbling over the word. I feel my lips twitch in a hint of a smile, and I suppress a yawn before nodding.

"Vivisection," I correct him tonelessly. "And it's also where I obtained my ability to absorb Materia into my body."

I see Squall perk up.

"What do you mean?" he asks. I blink at him. "What do you mean by absorbing Materia? Does that mean you don't need a medium to perform magic, anymore?"

I nod. "Exactly. I have so much Mako in my body that the Materia just assimilate into my blood." I pause. "Hold on a second."

I close my eyes and delve into the back of my mind, looking for Griever. He's sleeping back among my memories of the times I've summoned Odin to battle.

Griever, how'd you like to come out?

I can hear him stretch, in a manner of speaking. _'Sure.'_

And I know that Fenrir and Zack won't want to be left out, so I guess I'll summon them, too.

Calling forth what energy I can spare, I take a breath and brace myself against the pain as light erupts from me. Zack appears next to me in a swirl of green, Griever swoops down from the clouds with a roar, and Fenrir bursts, howling, from the earth a little ways off. I'm shaking by the time that they're fully there, but it's definitely worth the looks on the others' faces. I nod to Zack as he walks over next to me, looking down at me with some concern.

"Thanks for joining us," I call to them. Fenrir is jumping up and down like a hyper puppy, and he turns to give me a wolfish grin.

"_**It is so nice to be out and- SQUIRREL!!" **_He goes bounding off a few yards, and Zack is in stitches as Fenrir looks around for a long moment for whatever it is he saw, to no avail. Eventually, my lupine friend whines a bit, looks back at us plaintively, and then glances forward again before trotting back to flop behind me. I banish First Tsurugi back into my subspace pocket in favor of leaning against Fenrir's warm side.

"This is Fenrir," I explain, gesturing to my lupine summon. Then I point to Zack. "And this is Zack Fair."

A warm, dry nose nudges against the side of my head, and I smell feathers.

"And this is Griever." Griever purrs, and I turn in time to see him start preening his wings, stretching languidly.

"Nice to meet everybody," Zack says, sitting himself on his heels next to me with a wave. "Zack Fair, SOLDIER First Class, at your service."

Terra giggles and returns his wave. "Nice to see you again, Zack."

I smile slightly at the various looks of wonder on the faces around me.

"Fenrir, Griever, Zack," I call, "these are Aren, Firion, Onion Knight, Cecil, Bartz, Terra, Squall, Zidane, and Tidus. I'm sure you've met most of them at least once."

Fenrir yips lightly. _**"Indeed, I have. Zidane, I have not seen you in a cat's age! Not since Eiko last summoned me, and that was a long time ago."**_

Zidane laughs and comes over to pat Fenrir on the neck. "It's been a while, yeah."

Griever rumbles a greeting to Squall as I settle back against Fenrir's side, watching my companions and my summons interact. It seems that most of them are familiar with Fenrir, and Squall seems to be the most familiar with Griever. I sigh tiredly and look over to Zack to find that he's staring at me with some concern.

"You okay, buddy?" he asks. He's perched on his heels, leaning against his knees. His hair is as untamed and spiky as ever, but his glowing violet eyes are more serious than they've been in a while.

I heave a breath out of my lungs, then wince when my wounds are aggravated. "I will be, I think."

Zack nods, scanning the bandages poking out from underneath my sweater.

"How'd they start bleeding, anyway?" he asks, prodding my shoulder with his index finger. I hiss and recoil from the invasive digit, glaring at him as I rub the offended area.

"Stop poking me, hedgehog!" I growl. Zack feigns being wounded.

"Hey, that's no way to talk to your best bud in the whole wide world!" he exclaims dramatically. "Besides, at least _my _hair doesn't look like a chocobo's backside!"

I scowl at him, wishing I had the strength to punch him. He just grins right back.

Annoying bastard.

"Aww, come on, Spike, there's no reason to get like that."

"…"

"Oh, no, not the face!" I guess that my combination of fatigue and annoyance are making me look less fearsome than I'd intended. Oh, well, it's getting a satisfactory reaction, anyway.

"…" I duck my head and push my lower lip out a fraction of an inch.

Zack gives off a distressed yelp, holding out his hands in a placating gesture as he tries to ward off what, to him, must seem like a pending tantrum.

"Okay, okay!" he finally cries. "I'll stop, I'll stop! Just… don't make that face at me!"

I look away, and I think I must be smirking. I feel like laughing, but I know that that would hurt. Either way, the rest of the group is either laughing or staring at us, which is a nice change from the somber atmosphere of before.

It's a few moments before everyone settles down again, and then Tidus turns to me, still grinning with mirth.

"So, what happened then?" he asks. I shrug.

"I was rescued by my friends and Tifa," I explain. "They brought me home for recovery, and Tifa had Rinoa about four or so months after that. Then the incident with Terra Jerrel happened, and we took custody of Aerith, Sephiroth, and Zack Hewley. A month later, I ended up here, and, as they say, the rest is history."

"Wow," says Terra. They're all quiet a moment. "There's one thing I'm wondering, though. If your wounds are so old, then why did they suddenly reopen? Why now and not sooner?"

I take a deep breath, feeling a faint shiver run through me. Fenrir turns his head and licks my face from chin to temple. I turn to scowl half-heartedly at him, feeling drool drip down my cheek.

"Thanks," I grouse sarcastically, reaching up to wipe off the majority of the saliva. Then I turn back to Terra. "It happened when we were cast into darkness, after Cosmos…"

I trail off, a surprising amount of hurt causing my heart to clench. I clear my throat again, take another drink from the water bottle, and then shrug again.

"I don't know what you guys saw when you were in the darkness," I admit lowly, "but I just felt the pain of my wounds being reopened, as fresh as the day I first received them, and I heard my family screaming… screaming as though they were being brutally tortured."

That admission casts a hush over the group. It's a long few minutes before anybody speaks, and I can't help the yawn that I desperately try to stifle. I only manage to hide it behind my hand before I settle down again, blinking tiredly. I've almost completely exhausted all my reserves of strength through telling my story, and my throat is sore from all the talking. I haven't spoken this much at one time since I first arrived here. It shows.

Zack's hand on my shoulder surprises me, and I realize that I'm starting to slip into a daze. Shaking myself, I look up at him, questioning him without words.

"You need to sleep," he states. I grunt.

"I do not," I retort. "I slept for three days, already. Don't need to sleep anymore."

Zack pokes me in the side of the head. When I don't swat his hand away, he looks triumphant.

"See?" he quips. "You don't even have the energy to keep me from doing that." I open my mouth to protest again, but he claps his hand over my mouth and shushes me with exaggerated motions.

"Listen to Doctor Zack, Spike," he jibes, that familiar devil-may-care grin of his on his face. "Get. Some. Rest."

I reach up and pry his hand off my face with some difficulty. He's blocking my airways. When I finally manage to separate myself from his palm, I suck in a gulp of air and grimace, turning to wipe my mouth on the shoulder of my sweater before glaring up at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" I demand, shoving his hand away. "You almost suffocated me! And what the hell have you been _doing _with that hand?! Your glove tastes positively revolting!"

He looks thoughtful for a long second. I feel what little blood I have in my face drain as a horrible notion enters my mind.

"Wait!" I order, feeling slightly nauseated. "_Don't_ tell me, I _don't_ wanna know. Just keep your damn hands away from my face before I puke."

Zack grins, and I can hear my companions laughing at us. _Again._

"Get some sleep, and I swear I will," he promises. I growl at him.

"What are you, my mother?" I grouse, but I lay gingerly back against Fenrir nonetheless. He curls around me a bit so that his tail is laying across my legs, and nudges me gently with his nose.

Zack laughs at me.

"Close enough," he throws back. "Since Aerith isn't here to take care of you, I have to do it or she'll get mad at _me_ for your stupidity_._ And you know how bad she _nags_ when she's mad. Nag, nag, _nag._"

I shudder, remembering one of Aerith's tirades. Jeez, for being such a gentle woman, she sure had a temper on her. She was the queen of lecturing, too. I think Tifa took lessons from her while we were all traveling together.

"Don't remind me," I croak. Then I look at Aren as I set the water bottle down by my side. "Thanks for the water, Aren."

He gives me the first smile I can remember getting out of him. He's always so serious.

"Feel better, Cloud," he returns. I hum, but I'm already drifting off. The pain of my wounds is fading, and I'm able to turn on my side again, snuggling up to Fenrir's warmth, before my eyelids droop closed. I think I can feel Zack tucking the blanket in more securely around me, but I don't care. I'm too tired to care, right now.

For the second time in as many weeks, I fall asleep to the sound of my friends' laughter.

It's definitely a good thing to hear.

* * *

**_Disclaimer:_** _I don't own Final Fantasy VII, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus, or Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. Neither do I own any of the affiliated characters. Chew on that and stick it up your asses, lawyers._

_Sigh. That one was a doozy. But I felt it would be good for Cloud to open up to his companions a bit (okay, more than a bit), and at Zack's urging, I wrote this. *dodges glares promising doom* Hey, don't kill me! He used the PUPPY EYES OF DOOM! on me. Can you blame me for caving?? *does an imitation of Zack's PUPPY EYES OF DOOM! and Epic Fails*_

_Please don't kill me for recapping. And I hope you had as much fun reading it as it was to write it. Though I have to say, I think the saving grace of this chapter is Zack and Cloud's banter. And Cloud's swearing. Swearing is always funny. XD_

_Next chapter will have more action in it, I promise._

_A big thank you goes out to those people who reviewed chapter 12: **Ayame Harushino**, **Calenlass Greenleaf1**, and **Tani2**. You guys rock! I'm glad you still like this fic so much. There'll probably be a couple more twists, if you haven't figured them out already. I can't tell if anyone's guessing where this is heading. Care to throw out some ideas? I have it all plotted out in my head, but it's always neat to see what people predict and then try to throw them for a loop. XD Nah, I'm just being ornery, though I really am interested in what you guys think is going to happen._

_Thanks again!_

_**Side Note:** If anybody out there likes Zack a lot, and doesn't like seeing him die, there are a few fics out there that I'd recommend, though some of them seem to be following the same general pattern. Some great Zack-survival-fics there are **The Road to Sunrise** by **Schtuff**, **Reclamation** by **JaydeeGrey**, and **Splintered Dreams** by **Fairheartstrife**. All of them are excellent, and I highly recommend them._

_Next chapter should be posted 3-30-10._

_**-P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	14. Lightning

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

_**Chapter 14: Lightning.**_

* * *

_"You can have no dominion greater or less than that over yourself."  
--Leonardo da Vinci_

* * *

It takes me a total of four and a half days to recover from my wounds and the blood loss that came with them. Even before I could walk again, I was chafing at the limitations placed on me by my body and my- _cough, overprotective, cough-_ companions. Truthfully, after casting Curaga on myself, I was raring to go. That was about twelve hours or so ago.

As it stands, I'm so bored right now that I've taken to learning how to juggle with the few Materia I have with me. Even Zack can't get me to stop, which is saying a lot toward what my lack of activity is doing to my temper.

Toss, up, down, catch, toss, up, do- Hey!

"Oi!" I exclaim, the remaining Materia falling ungracefully into my lap. "What's the big idea, Zack?!"

Zack grins at me, tossing the White Materia up and down where he's just snatched it right out of the air.

"Well, you want it back?" he asks. I scowl at him and leap to my feet, my boots clunking dully on the turf. Not for the first time, I'm glad I was allowed to dress myself fully the second time I woke up after being wounded. It would be hard to chase Zack around if I didn't have pants on.

It takes the rest of them about five seconds before they realize that Zack and I are halfway across the world fragment. By that time, the two of us are long gone, plunging into the woods at the edge of the fragment. Zack's laughing like a lunatic, and I'm growling curses at him under my breath. But when my foot suddenly hits something, I come crashing down, barely catching myself with my hands in time to recover from my fall into a much more graceful roll.

I hear Zack laughing at me from up ahead, but as I turn to see what it is I tripped on, I feel my breath catch. Hurriedly, I gather my legs beneath myself and move into a crouch, leaning forward to more closely examine it.

"Hey, Spike, where'd ya go?" Zack's still laughing, and I can hear him approaching.

"Over here," I call, my gaze still fixed on what tripped me.

Good God. I thought we were the last ones. The _only_ ones. I never expected _this._

Zack shoots me a question as he pushes through the flora around me, but the words die on his lips as he sees what I've found. A low, appreciative whistle escapes him.

"Man, she's kinda hot," he says. A second later, he yelps when I backhand him in the knee. He conveniently drops the White Materia at the same time. I catch it quickly before it can hit the ground, and banish it to my subspace pocket. Then I turn back to our foundling.

She's a young woman, maybe twenty years old or so, with strawberry-blonde hair that reaches down to the middle of her back or so. A sheath of some kind is slung from her belt, and it'll probably reach down to her mid-thigh when she's standing. She's as fair-skinned as I am (albeit with a few more freckles, but hey), and she has a face that reminds me a lot of my mom…

Poke.

It's a good thing I'm kneeling out of her reach, because Zack's prodding her with a stick and I know _I_ wouldn't take kindly to being examined so. Sure enough, she begins to stir a minute later. Zack leans back, as well, following my lead.

I'm almost thankful when she simply stills again, though I have to admit that it worries me that she hasn't reacted to what amounted to a kick in the side from when I tripped over her. I exchange a glance with Zack.

"I think we'd better take her back to camp with us," he says, and I nod. I was thinking the same thing.

I reach out and detach the sheath-thing from her clothing, handing it over to Zack before I lean over and slide my arms under her knees and her back. Then I shift my weight and push myself to my feet.

Thank God for all those squats I used to do.

The girl doesn't stir in the slightest, and it's a little awkward for me to carry her because I think she's taller than _I_ am, and she's heavier than she looks. But I manage well enough, and soon Zack and I are walking back out of the woods the way we came.

"Zack," I say when I can tell we're nearing the edge of the trees. He looks at me inquisitively. "Go get Aren and Terra. Have them ready with a place to put her and a Scan spell." I pause. "She might be injured, if her lack of reaction is any indication."

Zack nods and runs ahead. His SOLDIER speed doesn't awe me as much as it used to, but I find myself smiling slightly at his familiar exuberance, nonetheless. His motions are so intrinsically _Zack_ that it lightens my heart.

…Don't _ever_ tell him I said that. Thanks.

By the time I finally break into open ground once more, the others are all standing back at the campsite, waiting for me, though I can see Aren and Terra and Zack making their way toward my location. It's obvious that they're all curious. Frankly, I'm pretty intrigued, myself, if not a little unnerved.

I'm about ten feet away from the woods when she begins to wake up, shifting in my grip enough that it's difficult to keep a hold on her. I finally have to stop and set her down before I drop her. Then I sit back and watch as her eyelids flutter.

Suddenly, her eyes snap open and she shoots into a sitting position, fists coming up and knees bending toward her chest in a defensive posture. Now that she's awake, I can see that she has blue eyes like chips hewn from a winter sky, but her pupils have a ring of sea-green around them. The same color lines the outer edge of her irises before fading to the starkness of the whites of her eyes.

After a second of surprise, her gaze closes off. It's an almost startling change, from showing emotion to being as detached as the most veteran SOLDIER's. I try to keep my expression neutral. Don't want to freak her out more than necessary, after all.

"You're awake," I murmur in greeting. She eyes me warily. "Are you injured?"

No reply. Shit, is she going to be difficult?

I frown at her. "You can tell me, or we can use a Scan spell to find out the hard way. Which is it going to be?"

It's at about this point that Aren, Terra, and Zack arrive. Zack immediately crouches on her other side, cocking his head in a very Chocobo-like manner.

Ha! And he says _I_ look like a Chocobo.

"Hiya!" he chirps, grinning and holding up a hand. "I'm Zack. Zack Fair, SOLDIER First Class. What's your name?"

She just stares at him.

I roll my eyes. Then a thought hits me. "Do you understand what we're saying?"

She turns to me and frowns. "Of course I understand you."

The condescension in her voice puts me on edge, and I grit my teeth.

"What's your problem?" I growl. From the corner of my eye, I catch Zack's look of alarm from where he's crouching, and I return her cold glare full-force with one of my own. Unsurprisingly, she looks away after a long moment. My eyes usually have that effect on people.

I scoff and get to my feet, deciding that it's not worth my time to try to get her to talk.

"Good luck," I mutter to Zack, Aren, and Terra as I pass them.

"…Wait." Her voice startles me, with both its tone and its smooth quality. It's surprising, really, what a softening in inflections can do. I stop, but don't turn around, in case she's not talking to me.

"I'm… a little disoriented," she confesses. "I didn't mean to snap or be rude."

I sigh, reach up to massage the bridge of my nose, and then turn back to her with some reluctance. I can feel a headache coming on.

"Are you injured?" I repeat. She looks up at me, and shakes her head.

"No," she replies, though she looks thoughtful. "Though I have to say I can't remember why my side is aching so badly."

I give her an apologetic, sympathetic wince. "That's my fault. I tripped over you while I was chasing Zack."

"Yo," Zack says with another wave. "Sorry for my buddy's klutziness."

"Zack," I growl. He grins at me unabashedly.

"Admit it, Cloud, you had a klutzy moment," he chuckles. I sigh and thwap him upside the head before I look back at the girl.

"I'm Cloud Strife," I tell her. "Again, I'm sorry for tripping on you."

She shakes her head. "It's fine. My name is Lightning. Lightning Farron."

There's a second of silence before I sense Zack's stare on me and turn to him. "What?"

He glances between me and Lightning with one eyebrow raised and an amused smirk dancing across his features.

"How many does this make?" he asks me, grinning again. "There's you, Squall, Tidus, Terra, and now Lightning. Five? And you're all named after either weather conditions or geographical features."

I roll my eyes openly. "Where's a wall when I need to bash my head against one?"

Terra's laughing behind us, and I can sense Aren's amusement, as well. As Lightning stands up, Terra comes forward and smiles at our pink-haired acquaintance.

"I'm Terra Branford," Terra says, and then I hear Aren hum behind me.

"And I am known as the Warrior of Light," he intones quietly. "If you so wish, you may call me Aren."

Lightning nods, and I can see her glance toward the rest of our companions. Then she looks back at us.

"Do any of you know where we are?" she asks. "I woke up here about three weeks ago with no knowledge of how I arrived or what the purpose of bringing me here is."

I exchange a glance with my companions, and then I watch as Aren turns to Lightning.

"You should probably come with us," he says. "We'll explain on the way."

Lightning stares at him, features impassive, for a long moment. Then she nods.

"Alright," she concedes. Then she turns to Zack. "Now, if you'd give me back my sword."

It's an order, not a request. Zack studies her for a long moment. Then he hands her the sheath with a slight bit of reluctance. Lightning clips it onto her belt with professional swiftness.

"Are you a soldier of some kind?" Zack asks as we turn to head back to the camp. Lightning looks at him with something akin to calculation.

"I was," she answers at last. I tune them out some as we near the encampment and the others come over to meet us.

What follows is a blur of introductions and explanations.

I just end up getting a headache. Ugh.

* * *

I'm cold. And it's not a dropping-temperature-in-the-middle-of-the-Nibel-Mountains-signalling-the-onset-of-a-blizzard kind of cold, either. It's on the inside.

The cause?

Our current location is hair-raisingly familiar to me, even more so than when I found Sephiroth at the Planet's core. No, this place is one that holds very few good memories for me.

Nibelheim.

How did we get here, you wonder? Another rift in the fabric between our worlds, that's how. You know, like the one I almost died trying to get to after falling off an invisible platform, and then had to get saved by Cecil? Yeah. A portal. Like that.

I tune out the others' musings about our location, and, as my gaze falls on our newest companion, I take mental stock of her.

It's been almost two weeks since we met Lightning. She apparently comes from a place called Cocoon, on a planet she calls Pulse. She has a sister called Serah, and Lightning is a soldier, like Zack and I first thought. She fights with a gunblade she calls Blaze Edge. As I related before, she has strawberry-blonde hair, blue-green eyes, and fair skin. She wears a white waistcoat made of some kind of synthetic material- vinyl?- and a red cape that she has attached to her shoulder pauldrons. Long leather gloves protect her hands and arms. She also wears a moss-green miniskirt, black shorts, and has a red leather pouch slung from her belts, which straps around her left thigh. Thigh-high combat boots complete her ensemble.

Personality wise, it's like looking into a mirror of my past self. She's cold and calculating, brusque with everybody, and even condescending to many of us. She even seems to look down on _me._

I swear, if I was ever like that to Tifa and the others, I'm apologizing profusely as soon as I get back home.

Ah, sorry. I've gotten into the habit of cataloguing people I meet, filing away information about them for later reference. I know I did that with the rest of my companions, and now I've done it with Lightning, too.

Unfortunately for my temper, however, there's no doubt that she's a warrior chosen by Cosmos. After all, Lightning has a Crystal of her own, which she apparently acquired just before Cosmos' death. Her Crystal is a beautiful, translucent blue that glitters like diamonds any time the slightest amount of light hits it. It reminds me a lot of Materia, but clearer.

I'm drawn out of my musings when I see Terra heading for the replica of the cottage I grew up in.

"Terra," I call to her. She blinks and turns to me. "Don't go in there."

She tilts her head to the side, looking genuinely curious. "Why not?"

I glance uneasily around the town again, and it's not long before my stare lands on the path leading up to the Shinra mansion. I repress a shiver with some difficulty. I'm reluctant to find out if it's still there in this world fragment, but I guess it's probably not something I can really control.

"Just… don't," I repeat slowly. "It's not someplace you need to see."

I glance around again, and then look up at the mountains, seeing clouds gathering around their summits and the peaks and valleys of Mt. Nibel. The temperature is beginning to drop, and I can smell snow on the air, though I doubt that any of the others can. Mako-enhanced senses, you know.

Finally, I turn and head toward the inn.

"Come on," I call to them. "We're not getting any further today, anyway."

"Why not?" asks Firion, confused. "We've got a few hours of daylight left."

I don't even turn around, pushing open the door of the inn. "We're not moving on unless you want to get caught in a massive, white-out snowstorm. Now come on."

The inside of the inn is just like I remember it from the last time I was here. The cream-colored walls and dark wood half-paneling is the same as it always has been. The front desk is slightly dusty, and the bell sitting cheerfully on top of it is dulled; even the guestbook is flipped open to the first blank page, the pen uncapped and leaking onto the paper. It's almost… _sad._

I can hear the thump of everybody's feet on the floorboards behind me, and I turn around to find them gazing around, taking stock of the place just like I did. When they fix their eyes on me again, I gesture to the stairs to the right of the desk.

"There are three bedrooms upstairs, and there's a bathroom with showers in it at the end of the hallway," I explain to them, calling on my previous knowledge of the inn. "There are two beds plus a cot to each room. On the ground floor, as you can see, there's the common room, the dining room, and another bathing room."

I drop my hands to my sides again, and head back toward where I can remember the kitchen being. "I'd recommend you take the time to rest and bathe, if you'd like. Don't know when we're going to find someplace like this again."

Then I'm alone, standing in the middle of the inn's kitchen and staring around at the unfamiliar room with only my thoughts and my Summons for company.

'_Man, this sure brings back memories, doesn't it?'_ It's Zack again. I hum, and head back for the pantry, determined to find something to put in my belly. Come to think of it, it's probably a good thing that I'm alone for the moment. If the others saw me eating, they'd probably just gawp at me.

After all, having a SOLDIER's metabolism means I have to eat a lot… and eat almost constantly, at that.

Sigh. Thanks a friggin' lot, Hojo.

'_Amen to that, brother,'_ Zack mutters. _'I know _exactly_ what you mean.'_

Yeah. And my stomach agrees with me, too.

I can sense Zack's grin even though I can't see him at the moment. Oh, that reminds me. It was really, _really_ funny when Lightning realized that Zack is one of my Summons.

Zack sniggers in the back of my head. '_The look on her face was _priceless._ I can't _wait_ until she meets Fenrir and Griever.'_

I snort as I try to hold back my laughter, and finally settle on whatever I can find for food. I manage to pull out half a cooked ham (wrapped in a layer of aluminum foil), a couple jars of pickles, a few packages of dried fruit, and two sour plums. Yum.

No, seriously, I _love_ sour plums. Everybody else in my family thinks I'm crazy, but hey, that's what I like. I don't have much of a sweet tooth (except when it comes to Tifa's hot chocolate, of course), so…

My musings are interrupted when I hear the door to the kitchen swing open. I turn to see who it is, and I'm greeted by the sight of Aren… minus his armor.

I simply stand there and stare at him for a long moment, taking in the sight of him with his hair flowing free and clad in a simple pair of pants and a loose shirt. He still has his boots on, and for some reason, he's looking a little uneasy. It's an almost-funny sight.

It's then that I realize that he's staring at me, too, and I glance down at myself. I've got my arms full of pickles and ham and plums, and I have two bags of dried fruit dangling from between my teeth. I must be quite the sight. Raising my eyebrow at Aren, I cross to the island and set it all down, plucking the fruit bags from my mouth with feigned nonchalance. Then I turn to him and cross my arms, waiting for him to speak.

It's a few moments before he ventures to talk to me.

"I was looking for something to eat," he confesses. I nod, and point him to the pantry.

"Pantry's over there," I say, and then I point to the refrigerator. "And there's the cold storage. Help yourself. Just make sure you check the food before you eat it. I don't know how long it's all been in here."

He nods, and crosses over to stand where I was just a few moments ago, scanning the interior of the pantry for anything he might like to eat. In the meanwhile, I pull a stool up to the island and crack open a jar of the pickles.

"Were you planning to eat all of that?" The question makes me blink, and I turn to Aren with a pickle stuck halfway into my mouth. I realize my lapse in manners a heartbeat later, and hurriedly bite off the half in my mouth, chewing and swallowing in a matter of seconds.

"Are you kidding?" I ask, raising my eyebrows a fraction of an inch. "This is just the first course…"

Aren's eyes grow wide.

"…Or at least, it would be if I could be certain that we won't be stranded here," I continue, shrugging. "As it is, I figure we can all split the ham, dig out what else anyone else wants, and have a decent dinner. That way, we'd still have enough for breakfast in the morning. If we get stranded, I can always dig my way over to the other houses and raid them."

Aren's eyes are still wide. I blink.

"What?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"How is it that you can eat so much?" he counters. I sigh, and down the other half of my pickle before turning to fish another out of the jar.

"It's the Mako," I explain, keeping my voice as neutral as ever. "It boosts just about everything in my body- my nervous system, muscular performance, cellular respiration, and so forth. This, if you couldn't guess, ups my metabolism exponentially. I can go for days without food or sleep, but I have to eat almost constantly if I want to keep at peak performance."

"Huh," he mumbles. Sometime during my lecture, he's come over and fished out a pickle of his own. He's munching on it as we sit there. It's a moment before I realize how ridiculously similar we look, and I begin chuckling a second later.

Aren blinks at me.

"What?" he asks. I shake my head, leaning down and resting my forehead in the palm of my hand as I continue to laugh quietly. He gives me a strange look, but waits until my mirth subsides to question my sanity again.

"I'm laughing at _us_," I explain with a small smile, gesturing vaguely from myself to him. "Both of us are sitting here, leaning on the island, eating pickles with our right hands. I _know_ that we're wearing similar expressions."

By this time, Aren is chuckling, as well, an extremely rare sound that I think I've heard maybe once in the nine- ten? Twelve?- weeks I've known him. It makes me smile to see him lightening up even a little bit.

When we finish laughing at ourselves, we sit there in silence for several long moments, slowly making our way through the jar of pickles.

"So," he ventures at last. "Is this Nibelheim?"

I blink again and turn to him, swallowing my latest bite of pickle.

"How'd you guess?" I ask, and keep my voice carefully neutral. Aren shrugs.

"You seem to know your way around rather well," he answers, "and none of the rest of our party knew where we are."

I nod. "I see."

He studies me for a second. "Are you planning anything?"

_That_ catches me off-guard. I furrow my brow faintly for a second before I look him in the eye.

"What would I be planning?"

He shrugs again. "I thought you might be planning on checking around, seeing if anyone is here."

I look down at the surface of the island in thought.

I… hadn't really thought about it. I mean, I thought maybe I'd poke around my old house, snoop around Tifa's old house, just for old times' sake. But…

Then a thought hits me, and my eyes narrow.

Maybe I _will_ snoop around, after all.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything. And it sucks big, hairy, shit-covered monkey balls. ...Eeew. BAD mental images. *grimaces*_

_I. DON'T. LIKE. SHANTOTTO. That's all I have to say toward the main reason why I added in Lightning. Minor reasons? I think she's cool, and I thought it would be interesting to see how she and Cloud would interact. There'll be more scene time between them in the future, I'm sure, but I also wasn't planning on having the scene at the end between Cloud and Aren. I was rather pleased with how it turned out, though. I think it would be interesting to see Aren without his armor... a shirt and trousers would be nice, methinks. XD I'm being such a fangirl._

_Hope you all liked this chapter, and I'm sorry for the lateness. I know I said I'd post it on the 30th, but between three essays I had to write for school, as well as a couple of bad headaches that have kept me from getting a decent night's sleep for two days in a row, I've had very little attention or energy to finish this chapter. I have a really good idea for the next one, though, so hopefully the lull that this chapter became will be easily forgiven. XD_

_A big thanks goes to **Calenlass Greenleaf1** and **Ayame Harushino** for reviewing the last chapter. I'm glad everybody seems to be enjoying Zack so much. Hope you liked him here, too. This is something I totally think he'd do. *big grin*_

_HAPPY EASTER, EVERYBODY! (even though it's two days early.)_

_Next chapter should be posted 4-5-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	15. Revenant

______

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

_**Chapter 15: Revenant.

* * *

**_

_"Truly, the cruelest form of war is that which pits brother against brother, father against son, friend against friend, and forces you to sacrifice their lives for the sake of your own and your cause. That is the true, cruel reality of war."  
--Anonymous._

* * *

How'd I get into this situation, again?

Oh, right. Terra caught me as I was heading out into the town, and asked me if there's a general store around here. It seems that they've all guessed that we're on my world- in my time- so they figure I know things about where we are.

Lucky for them, I do, but it's still a little annoying when you get dragged off to a shop by a girl who's younger than you are and half your size.

Sigh. Long, _suffering_ sigh.

But you wanna know an upside to this ordeal? Lightning, Zidane, Tidus, and- for some reason I'm sure I'll never know- _Squall_ got dragged along, too. Lightning, because she's a girl… and the rest of them? Because the poor bastards were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Sigh. Woe is me.

Zack's snickering at my expense, again.

'_Hey, it's really not so bad,'_ he says, and I roll my eyes mentally as I push open the door of the general store and brace myself against it, allowing the others to enter and get out of the wind, which has picked up exponentially in the two hours or so that we've been in Nibelheim. Once they're all safely inside, I let it close with a strangely satisfying slam. Then I glance around.

Terra's already crossed over to the equipment section, and is browsing through the robes and the like that are hanging on the racks there. Lightning is examining the few weapons on display- namely the knives and guns- and Zidane and Tidus are looking at the rack of children's toys, which contains various sports balls, with soccer, basketball, and volleyball being the most commonly represented. Squall is perusing the snowshoes and other mountain gear. I, myself, head over to the shelf of potions and ethers, immediately picking up a few hi-potions and some elixirs.

I dump them (with care!) on the counter and then I step over to the weapons rack.

I can see Lightning give me a glance as I come to stand next to her, but I'm not really paying her any attention. Instead, I bend down a second later, searching through the stacks for the item I need.

Aha! There you are.

A cleaning kit comes to light, buried under a pile of old oiling cloths, and I shove it under my arm before I look around for the last item on my mental list. It takes me a minute longer to find this one shoved behind a set of kitchen knives. Yay, I have a whetstone, now. First Tsurugi and the Buster Sword are going to be _so_ happy with me. They were starting to get dull.

It's as I go back over to the counter and gather up my things to banish to my subspace pocket that I hear Terra crow with delight. As my items disappear into what seems like thin air, I politely turn to look at what it is she's found… and feel my blood run cold.

Oh, shit. That _can't_ be what I think it is…

"Isn't this cute?" Terra's asking, holding up that vile thing for all of us to see. Zidane's agreeing with her, and Tidus is laughing, probably at their enthusiasm. Squall grunts, and Lightning just looks nonchalant, though I think I can see a hint of a smile playing around the corners of her lips.

Me? I just glance around and slowly edge my way toward the door, trying to be inconspicuous even though I can feel my left eye twitching. Twitching! Wait. Maybe if I do this stealthily enough they won't notice me…

No such luck.

"Cloud? What do you think?" Terra turns to me, holding up the blue silk dress as well as the blonde wig that is somehow attached to it. There's a bag hung from the hanger it's on, the contents of which consist of a bottle of perfume that says _Sexy Cologne_ on it, as well as a distinctive member's card.

Oh, fucking _shit._

I don't reply to Terra's inquiry, and she goes back to studying it.

"I don't think it would fit me, though," she observes, looking that horrendous _thing_ up and down. "Too tall… And what's with the cut of it? The shoulders are so broad, and the hips so narrow…"

I swallow. Please don't let them figure it out, please don't let them figure it out, _please_ _don't let them figure it out!_

"And what's with this wig, anyway?"

Shit.

My heart pounds, and I continue to inch my way toward the door. Almost there… Just a few more feet…

"Wait a minute…" Terra's voice is strange, containing realization and curiosity. "This card says it's a membership to a 'Honeybee Inn.' And it looks like… a brothel?!"

The door closes softly behind me, and I bolt up the trail toward the reactor.

Phew. Awkward questions averted.

Zack is laughing uproariously in the back of my mind, and Griever's amused chuffing is grating on my nerves, as well. Fenrir's naïve confusion is nearly palpable.

'_She's so close to figuring it out, too!'_ Zack gasps out. If he were materialized right now, he'd be rolling on the ground and almost peeing his pants. _'If only she could see the photos Aerith took…'_

What?! I thought I'd burned them all already!

Zack sniggers some more. _'You missed one,' _he sing-songs.

I feel the blood drain out of my face.

Where the fuck is it?!

He laughs. _'Tifa had it, last time I checked… but that was a few years ago, during your travels. I think she actually lost it somewhere in Nibelheim…'_

Oh, shit biscuits with a topping of ass piss gravy.

'_Ooh, some creative cursing! Nice.'_

I'm gonna hang you the next time you get manifested.

'_Aww, come on! I don't deserve bodily harm! I'm not the one who took the photos!'_

Then tell me where it is and I'll spare you the agony.

'_I don't know.'_

What? What do you mean, "you don't know?!"

'_I don't know where it is.'_ He seems somewhat apologetic. _'I got pulled under about that time. All I know is that she had it before you guys entered Nibelheim, and when you left, it was gone.'_ He pauses thoughtfully, for some reason._ 'Tifa was pretty upset. She complained to Aerith about losing blackmail material, or something.'_

What?! Not Tifa! There's no way she would do that…

'…'

…right?

'…'

Shit. Forget apologizing for ever being a jerk to her.

'_Well, I don't blame her-'_

Hold that thought. Did you see that?

'_What?'_

I think there's something in the mansion.

I don't wait for Zack's reply before I head for the Shinra mansion, pulling the Buster Sword from my subspace pocket as I do so. I think I see someone following me, but I'm not sure and I don't care.

I can see a light moving inside from one of the windows.

I shiver slightly, and it has nothing to do with the cutting wind that whips right through my clothing to bite at my skin underneath. It has nothing to do with the rapidly-dropping temperature or the gil-sized snowflakes-that-look-more-like-hail that are starting to fall on my head and catch in my hair and eyelashes. The hilt of the Buster Sword is cooling in my palm.

Before I know it, I'm across the yard and standing before the mansion's front door.

Gulp.

But I shoulder it open anyway and then, stepping into the musty interior, shut it behind me without having to look. My first glance around tells me what I already know: nothing much has changed from the last time I was in here. The only things disturbing the dust (which bears the faint marks of mine and my friends' previous passage three years ago) are some new footprints. They trail from the parlor on my left to the parlor on my right, stark black against the almost-white, inch-thick layer of dust across the rest of the floor, before heading across the room toward the massive staircase against the far wall. It's the stairs I make for, my steps unhesitating.

I know those boot prints. After all, I've gotten kicked in the head by them enough times that they've... well, let's just say they've made a _lasting impression._

'_Holy shit, did you seriously just _joke_ at a time like this?!'_ Zack sounds incredulous and amused at the same time, and I raise an eyebrow as I tread silently up the stairs, keeping to the outer edges of them to minimize the creaks and groans they tend to make.

Yes, Zack, I believe I did.

He laughs at me. He always laughs at me. I guess I must be a pretty funny guy, but then again, Zack _is_ easily amused.

'_Hey, I heard that,'_ he protests half-heartedly. I shrug mentally.

You're still a hyper puppy after all these years. I doubt you'll ever change.

'_Whatever you say, Cloud,'_ he chuckles. _'You just keep telling yourself that…'_

I roll my eyes, and then freeze as I hear a sound coming from the bedroom on my right; the one with the hidden staircase in it. Tightening my grip on the Buster Sword, I head over to the room and enter, my nerves on edge and my weapon held out in front of me.

Nothing.

But I can feel the back of my neck prickling, and I can see that the footprints head into the secret door… which is standing wide open.

Shit.

I _really_ don't want to go down there. It's dark and scary and there are big-ass spiders just waiting to drop on me… but I know I have to. So I groan faintly with resignation, buckle down, and start making my way down the rotting steps.

Three stairs in, the wood beneath my boot splinters and collapses. I'm almost sent tumbling down the steps, but I catch myself just in time against the cold stone wall. Sucking in a deep breath of air, I calm my racing heart and trudge on, watching my footing even more closely this time.

Two collapsed steps, five close calls, and a sneeze and a half later, I finally reach the bottom of the winding staircase and take a second to savor the fact that I'm still _alive_ and that I haven't broken anything except for the rotting wood now littering the floor. Trust Shinra to come up with a damned death trap like this one.

Something creaks overhead. I glance up briefly and then troop onward, figuring that it's probably just one of the mansion's resident monsters in the rafters.

The boot prints I'm following lead into the study-slash-lab.

Nausea curls in my gut. My palms are sweating, and I can feel my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest. It's currently lodged somewhere between my Adam's apple and my collarbones, and it's beating so loudly it's a wonder that the person I'm following can't hear it.

Who knows? Maybe he can.

I bypass the room where Vincent was kept, ignore the chains and manacles and collar on the wall, and briefly hesitate before the closed study door, preparing myself for battle. Then I kick in the door and barge into the room, eyes darting every which way.

Empty.

Empty?

_Empty?!_

Fucking shit.

But my nerves aren't settled, yet. I cross over to the library, giving the tanks and the lab table a cursory glance- absently noting that the lab table still bears a rusty red crust of old blood- and then kick open that door, too.

Shit, how is it that _this_ place is empty, too?!

Damn it. I think I've been played.

'_I don't know about that,'_ Zack comments, voice thoughtful. _'It could be that he's come and gone already.'_

With only one set of boot prints, heading only _into _the lab?

'_Point.'_ His admission is reluctant. _'But he could've just flown back out. One-winged angel, remember?'_

I fucking hate that nickname. It doesn't suit him at all… at least, not _this_ him. One-winged devil would be more fitting.

'_Can't change it, Cloud,'_ Zack mutters as I head back toward the desk, my eyes roving over the scattered books, still stacked just as they were eight years ago when Sephiroth was down here before he went off his rocker. _'You have to admit, his wing _does_ look like an angel's wing… only black.'_

Yeah, yeah.

A boot scuffs on flagstone somewhere behind me. I spin around, Buster Sword up and ready to block or attack. But I'm met with the sight of Firion gazing around the lab, his expression one of faint disgust. I notice that he's not very well-armed, with only his rapier on his person. He doesn't even have his armor on.

…And the others are coming in behind him. Just great.

"What are you doing here?" I demand, letting my voice carry to them. Firion's gaze snaps over to me, and he raises his rapier in a defensive maneuver before he realizes who's talking and lowers it with a sigh.

"Cloud," he greets, relief in his voice. I'm not pleased.

"What are you doing here?" I repeat, glaring. He looks surprised at my bad mood, but it's Terra who replies.

"We saw you heading up here after you left the general store," she explains, and she sounds a little embarrassed. "We thought you might need some help, so…"

"So you brought everyone up here in the wind and the snow," I deadpan, my displeasure evident in the tone of my voice. I finally make my way out of the study, picking my steps carefully around the treacherous stacks of books. I cast a glance over the gathering in front of me.

"And barely armed, too," I mutter, and shake my head. "Do you have _any_ idea how reckless that was?"

Onion Knight is the one who counters that. "We knew the risks we were taking, Cloud. We're competent enough to know what's dangerous and what's not."

I resist the urge to grind my teeth.

"You don't know this place like I do," I say quietly, and push past Tidus and Squall to get to the hallway, eager to be out of the lab where I spent four years of hell.

"Is this where you were experimented on?" The question makes me freeze, my gaze falling to the floor in remembrance. It's a long time before I manage to answer Zidane's strangely intuitive question, feeling my old wounds twinge again.

"Yes," I finally say, and then I leave the lab and its memories behind.

Just as I clear the circle of my friends, a chilling chuckle fills my ears. My eyes widen, and my gaze snaps up to the hall in front of me. At the end of it, near the bottom of the staircase, is a familiar, black-clad, silver-haired figure, one midnight wing outstretched behind him. His back is toward me, but the six-foot blade of my nightmares is glittering in the sparse light from the overhead lamps.

"I see you followed me, Cloud." He turns to look at me, his green, catlike eyes glittering and glowing in the faint illumination. "How astute of you."

"Sephiroth!" I growl, and, temper getting the better of me, I charge down the hallway after him, legs pumping beneath me, arms pulling the Buster Sword up even as the old scars on my chest, arms, shoulder, and cheek burn with remembered fire. I can hear the others' startled cries behind me, but I don't care. This battle is between me and him, anyway.

"No…" I meet the Masamune with a sweeping, underhand slash that would have bisected him easily if he hadn't blocked. "You're JENOVA!"

He cackles again, but it's a strange sound: Sephiroth's bass timbre mixing with a high-pitched shriek of an alien virus in the form of a woman. Even as I watch, his skin takes on a blue tint, his irises glowing hellfire-red.

"How did you figure it out?" he- she? It?- taunts me, the dual pitches of its voice giving me a headache.

_Because Masamune doesn't sing in your hands like it does in Sephiroth's,_ I think, but don't voice it.

I grit my teeth, pull back, and go for another hit. It blocks again with superhuman strength.

"You gave yourself away when you blocked my attack on Kefka!" I snarl. "You showed your true form just as I disappeared!"

It cackles, and then slashes at me, sending me flying backwards into a wall, cracking the stone and sending dust flying. I can hear the others coming up behind me, outrage in their voices, but my gaze is fixed on the not-Sephiroth's visage as it smirks infuriatingly at me.

"Come and get me, Cloud," it says, and then it gives one flap if its wing and soars upward. I snarl viciously and lunge to my feet, fury flowing through my veins. Without even thinking about it, I grasp ahold of the Mako stored inside my body and release it. It surges through my bloodstream, reaching every cell in my body within milliseconds. I dash past an astonished Bartz and crouch, the muscles of my legs bunching beneath me. Then I rocket upward.

The air howls in my sensitive ears, the smell of dust tickles my nose. I can see the ceiling rushing down to meet me rapidly, falling just like Meteor did three years ago, though less destructive. I know I won't be able to make it to the top in one bound- even I'm not that well-enhanced- but I land with a jarring thud on the staircase and rebound off of it, making it to the door on my second leap.

JENOVA's cackle leads me dashing out of the room and through the mansion at a break-neck pace, slashing almost dismissively through the few monsters that dare stand in my way.

I finally catch up to it just outside the building. The creature is standing in the middle of the courtyard, smirking, unaffected by the blizzard raging around it.

We don't speak at all before we clash again.

It blocks another blow that would've beheaded it, and then it parries a slash that I attempt after summoning First Tsurugi out of my subspace pocket. I don't let it get the time to breathe, hacking recklessly-but-systematically away at it, analyzing its moves and trying to anticipate its future actions. It's not an easy task to accomplish, but we're five minutes into our fight and I haven't gotten hit, yet (which is a miracle in and of itself).

I've got JENOVA-Sephiroth on the defensive, though, and it's slowly backing out of the courtyard toward the path. It's as I finally find an opening and attempt to take advantage of it that a hurricane-force gust of frigid air knocks me off-balance and sends me stumbling backward a step.

That's all it takes for JENOVA to open a line of blazing fire across my chest. Blood splatters in a crimson arc across the ground, stark and dark against the white snow.

First blood goes to the creature.

Shit.

But I've defeated this thing before, and I'm not about to let my winning streak end now. I grit my teeth and center myself again, tensing, lowering my center of gravity and increasing my weight enough that the gales don't affect me as much. I lunge forward, coming in with a pincer move, swinging First Tsurugi in toward JENOVA-Sephiroth's right hip while I bring the Buster Sword in at its head. The thing, despite all the laws of physics that say it shouldn't be possible, twists away, contorting its lower extremities and its neck in ways that would kill or maim a normal human or even a SOLDIER.

Funny how it seems rather reluctant to twist its torso… but that's an advantage I think I can capitalize on, if I can create an opening.

We're on the trail leading up to the reactor, now. The ground is becoming rocky; as the world whirls past me in our mad dance, I can see the jagged spires of Mt. Nibel looming through the thickening blizzard, reduced to grey smudges by the driving snow. They jut out forebodingly, their points knife-sharp and intimately familiar to my skimming gaze.

But I only catch a glimpse of them before I have to block a Masamune strike… and then dodge a tentacle that would have speared me through if my reflexes weren't up to par.

As it is, my general performance has been down lately, since I haven't been eating well since I came to Cosmos' world. A combination of homesickness and a general lack of food have seen to that. And as I told Aren earlier, I have to eat near constantly or I lose my edge.

So, in other words, my reflexes are currently sub-par.

Double shit.

I hastily dodge another tentacle jab- _where the hell are these things coming from?!_- and hurl a Firaga at JENOVA before backpedaling a few steps to put some distance between us. I suck in a couple gulps of air that's so cold it seems like my lungs are being shredded by icy knives. Then I throw another two Firaga spells and a Thundaga at it and come blazing in with First Tsurugi and the Buster Sword poised and ready.

It manages to block First Tsurugi, but the Buster Sword bites deeply into the creature's side, a tide of black and red gushing out over the freezing metal of the blade. The liquid steams in the sub-zero air.

By this time, we've fought to the very steps of the Mt. Nibel reactor- frankly, I'm a little surprised it's actually _here-_ and as I wound it, the creature screeches something inhuman and retreats up the staircase, vanishing into the bowels of the building.

I stare up at the hulking place for a short moment, feeling the snow whip against my exposed skin and pull at my hair and clothes, threatening to rip them right from my body.

Mt. Nibel blizzards are nothing to shake a whisker at. The winds alone can kill an unwary person, whether by casting them off of a cliff or by dashing them against the jagged spires that Mt. Nibel is famous for. Any debris from the mountain or hail that might form in the storm easily transform into deadly projectiles. And the temperatures are a whole new danger all on their own. During a blizzard like this one, the air temperature can drop to fifty below in a matter of an hour or so. Right now, I'm judging it to be probably about twenty below, and the only reason I'm not half-frozen at the moment is because of my Mako enhancements, the fact that I've been fighting pretty hard, and the fact that I grew up in this kind of weather and am at least marginally accustomed to it.

As I trudge cautiously up the stairs into the reactor, I silently hope my friends haven't followed me up here. That would be stupid and suicidal.

At the thought of my companions, I pause before the open door. After a second's thought, I summon Fenrir, watching as he emerges from the wasted earth below me before I call to him over the screeching of the wind.

"Fenrir!" I have to scream his name twice before his ears twitch toward me and he looks up at me with intelligent, ice-blue eyes. "Go down the mountain the way we came up and make sure that none of our companions are following!"

He nods, and then he's gone and I'm left alone in front of the place that many of my nightmares still revolve around.

I look back at the dark portal yawning before me. Then I swallow, steel myself, and head inside.

Once I'm inside the reactor, the sound of the wind's howling quiets a little. When I close the door behind me and winch it shut, the sound dies off completely. I'm grateful for the silence. Somewhere in here is hiding a creature as deadly as it is ugly, and it's going to take everything I have in me, all the enhanced senses, all the strength, all the _stubbornness,_ to kill it and get out alive and halfway hale.

All I can hear at current is the sound of dripping water coming off of some of the pipes in the ceiling. I edge forward, gripping my swords firmly, my eyes darting every which way, examining every shadow and every crevice.

It's here… somewhere…

I hear a whoosh of displaced air somewhere off to my right, but know not to turn toward it. If it thinks I'm unaware of it, then it may become careless enough to attack me, and I'll be able to use that carelessness to my advantage. The creature would have to be stupid to think that I'm not aware of it, but I'm hoping that it _is_ retarded enough to fall for my trick.

Another sound of movement. Either the creature is getting sloppy, or it's more badly wounded than I thought.

When it comes shrieking at me from my seven o'clock a second later, I turn to meet it readily, firmly settled in the thought that it's the former of the two theories.

I fire a Thundaga, Firaga, and a Blizzaga at it in quick succession, and come in right after them, stabbing forward with both swords, aiming for the creature's midsection. JENOVA-Sephiroth's moves are almost sluggish as it desperately bats away the strikes, frost coating its face and its hair quickly burning up toward its scalp. The edges of its leather clothing are smoking faintly as a result of the Thundaga. The creature's expression is one of wide-eyed frenzy as it parries my next strikes with only partial success. I manage to score another three glancing hits on it before it puts some distance between us again and swoops down into the reactor's core.

Triple shit on a breadstick.

I was trying to kill it before it made it into the core, but it seems that I have no choice but to follow it in.

'_Cloud.' _Zack's voice is eerily serious, and it only fazes me slightly as I jump down to the catwalk leading into the core.

What is it?

'_Summon me.'_

Now _that_ gives me pause.

Why?

I can _feel _cold anger radiating from him, and it's something foreign coming from my best friend.

…Zack?

'_I want a stab at her,'_ he finally replies. _'I've never been able to, before now. Now that I can be manifested…'_

He doesn't have to say anything more. I know what it is that he's asking…

…and I also know that I can't grant it.

I can feel his shock at this revelation, but when I also tell him my reasons, I feel understanding and calm, albeit reluctant, acceptance of my decision come from his corner of my mind.

'_Alright,' _he concedes, settling down. _'But if you need help… someone to restrain it… or distract it…'_

I'll call on you if it comes to that, I promise. Especially if it looks like it's going to try to jump into the Mako and escape.

He nods. I head into the core.

JENOVA-Sephiroth is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs that lead up into the chamber where it was kept for so long. This is the place where it all started. How fitting, that it'll finally end here, as well.

It's not escaping with its life, this time. I'm going to make sure beyond all doubt that it's dead, and then some.

It looks at me with those luminescent red eyes, and navy-blue lips- the blue of a hypothermic human, the blue of a week-old frozen Nibel corpse- stretch into a fanged grin.

"You finally figured it out, did you?" It's more of a statement, and the mockery of a voice has a vague hint of smugness in it.

I just eye the door at the top of the stairwell… the wide-open door that I know won't close because of the slash through the doorframe that's distorting the gears. I stab First Tsurugi's blade into the floor with a shriek of cutting metal, and raise my left hand toward the creature. A Firaga gathers in my palm. I pump more and more Mako from my body into it until it's hot enough that the flames are white and I know that they'll melt even reinforced steel like that which the door is made of.

The creature is shrinking back from the heat waves blasting it, hissing. I watch as it turns to make a mad dash toward the Mako chamber.

It's then that I release the spell, adjusting the trajectory at the last moment so that the fire hits the doorframe and the wall around it, slagging the whole thing and effectively sealing off the monster's escape route. It shrieks and hisses at the heat waves roiling off of the molten, cherry-red metal, backing away and looking around frantically for another exit.

I take care of the door behind me in two seconds, closing it off without turning my gaze from the monster. The sealing winch falls into place with a very final-sounding _clunk._

We're trapped. No more exits, no more escapes. The creature hisses at me, knowing that it's effectively been cornered. And unless my friends decide to follow me despite Fenrir's influence (or maybe because of it; he's a little fickle at times), the only way that that door is going to open is if I open it myself, or if the creature kills me and then opens it.

I grab First Tsurugi again and advance slowly on the creature, a fury as cold as the storm outside settling heavy and suffocating in my chest.

"I thought you'd be happy, JENOVA," I say quietly as I advance upon the creature's form. "You've made my life hell. You took over Sephiroth eight years ago, made him destroy my hometown, made him hurt me and my loved ones. Then you made him try to destroy the world, and you brought him back a year ago to wreak havoc again."

I let the tip of First Tsurugi scrape along the floor for a few feet, the sound it produces as strangely satisfying as it is chilling. Like nails on a chalkboard.

"But now," I continue, my voice carefully neutral. "Now you've gotten me royally pissed in the most dangerous way possible. You've taken my son from me and are attempting to use him against me. That is going to be the last mistake you ever make."

I lift my swords again, holding the Buster Sword behind my back and First Tsurugi straight out in front of me in preparation.

It screeches as I charge forward toward it. But it's little more than a cornered animal, now, and I've forgotten that cornered animals are, oftentimes, the most dangerous.

A wave of tentacles shoots out of it, spearing toward me. One of them manages to offer some resistance to the Buster Sword as it arcs through the air toward the creature's shoulder, but another manages to deflect it just as a third throws First Tsurugi off course, leaving me wide open for a counterattack.

Unfortunately for me, my sub-par reflexes aren't enough to keep me from getting run through on the business end of Masamune.

My eyes go wide, and I barely manage to keep my grip on my swords as I toss my head back, fighting to hold down the scream I can feel building in my pierced chest. I thrash my legs weakly as the creature lifts me up off of the ground in a horrid mockery of both our first battle and the battle we fought during the Advent Crisis.

"This is familiar, isn't it?" The not-human voice is slightly shaky, but smug nonetheless. I choke on blood, can hear it dripping to the floor beneath me over the ringing in my ears.

There's a soft clank behind me, but I ignore it, keeping my eyes on JENOVA-Sephiroth even as I cough and more blood dribbles down my chin. It's really difficult to breathe, being held up like this, and even the fire that's spreading from the wound can't douse the icy sensation that's filled my insides.

"How fitting," the creature muses, "that things should end here, where they began."

I grit my teeth, banish my swords, and glare down at the thing in front of me as I reach around and grab ahold of Masamune's blade.

"My… thoughts… exactly," I choke out, and then force the blade deeper into my body. It's an excruciating pain, but my anger is burning through it even though I'm slowly drowning in my own blood. Masamune cuts through my leather gloves like it's nobody's business, but I barely feel the gashes I'm inflicting on my palms as I shove the sword into my gut again, and again.

JENOVA-Sephiroth's glowing crimson eyes are wide and disbelieving.

"How?!" it demands, its voice a high, panicked shriek as it takes a half-step backward from me. "How are you doing this?!"

I find a new grip on the bloodied, mirror-bright surface of Masamune, pull myself onto it another foot and a half. My feet are touching the ground, again, and I'm within striking distance of the creature, though it doesn't seem to realize it.

Sloppy.

I bare my teeth in a bloody grin and summon the Buster Sword to my hand.

"The same way… I did it… the first time," I choke out, and tighten my shaking grip on the Buster Sword, the symbol of Zack's legacy, Angeal's honor, and my own pride. "Sheer… stubbornness."

And with that, I summon my remaining strength and bring the Buster Sword up from below the creature, slitting it open from groin to chin. It shrieks in pain and jerks away, jostling Masamune painfully where it's still lodged in my guts. I follow through with a horizontal slash across its belly, opening it to the air. Its intestines come spilling out across the frigid floor in a rush of blood and black ichor, along with a large, child-shaped mass covered in a thin membrane.

Once that large piece is missing, JENOVA staggers backwards, its features morphing into something even less human than before. I waste no time in bisecting it from the crown of its head downwards and then segmenting it until it is no more than a smattering of ichor and chunks of body no more than six inches square.

It takes a huge effort, but I manage to bend down and drag away the membrane-wrapped mass before I turn to JENOVA's remains and charge up another Firaga like the one I fired at the door. My reserves are flagging, so it takes a moment longer to gather the energy needed for the spell, but finally it's done, and I send it screaming in at the pile of kibble and bits that used to be JENOVA.

There's nothing left when the flames die down a few minutes later, nothing but melted metal and the acrid stench that comes with it.

And I still have the Masamune sticking out of my guts.

I look down at the child-shaped lump next to my feet. I know what it is, and I'm almost afraid to expose it. But I also know that if I don't get that film off, it could be detrimental. So I bite down the pain, spit out the blood, and kneel next to it, my shaking, shredded fingers fumbling for a good grip on the mucous membrane. It takes a second, but I finally manage to tear a hole in it, which I then stick my fingers through to tear it apart.

When the membrane finally comes away, my heart is lightened exponentially when I behold the face of Sephiroth, my three-year-old son.

Relief, pain, and blood loss make my limbs weak, and black swirls in my vision as I choke on more blood. I almost miss the sight of Sephiroth's eyelids fluttering and then opening, those green eyes looking up at me as he wipes away some of the ichor that's coating his skin.

"Cloud," he exclaims, and he actually sounds _excited_ to see me. "You came! I _knew_ you'd figure it out!"

I manage a shaky smile and pull him toward me. His legs shake as he tries to stand up, so I hold him close and stroke a hand down his matted silver hair in a comforting motion. He wraps his arms securely around my neck.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles. I can feel him sagging against me.

"Sleep, Seph," I whisper, my voice gurgling. "I'll… be waiting here… when you wake."

He's already asleep, exhausted from that parasite's drain on his energy.

My head spins, and I know that I'm in big trouble with the blood loss. But I can't remove the Masamune right now- I don't have enough strength left in me- and even so, it's actually helping me if I leave it in right now. It helps to suppress the blood flow.

But I've got another problem creeping up.

The reactor hasn't been used since Shinra shut down three years ago. As it is, all of the heating and cooling faculties have been shut off. This means that, with the storm outside, the temperature in here is probably about freezing right now. It's obviously a lot warmer next to the molten metal (thank God for that) and the hot air will, thankfully, warm the rest of the place for at least a little while. But I know good and well that I don't have the strength to get back out of the reactor and down the mountain to shelter. I also know that the slag is going to cool pretty quickly.

Now I'm actually hoping that the others _do_ find us, soon.

My vision skews again, and I stagger, falling heavily on my side against one of the tanks that the Mako mutants are housed in. Blood wells in my throat. I cough it out, hearing it splatter wetly against the floor. I can't feel my legs, anymore.

The next thing I know, I'm kneeling beside the tank, leaning almost all of my weight against the white-grey metal. Sephiroth is cradled in my lap, and my vision is going black.

I wonder, is this the end? Am I really going to die?

I think I can hear Zack telling me not to give up, but my mind is so hazy that I can't really register what he's saying.

A nap… sounds good right now… really… really… good…

I slump against the tank, my awareness fleeing me.

Tifa... Rinoa... Zack… I'm sorry…

Good… ni… ght…

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything related to Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XIII, or the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII. Characters you don't recognize are my own._

_Cloud hates my guts right now. Seriously, he does. After all, I just wrote a chapter that ends with him all but disembowled. So no, Cloud is not a happy camper._

_On the other hand, the mystery of Sephiroth is finally solved and resolved. How's that for a twist? And if you can't get the reference in the beginning when they're in the store, then you need to go play Final Fantasy VII again, or find it on YouTube or something. It's an utterly HILARIOUS scene in the beginning of the game after the second mission that involves cross-dressing for the sake of infiltration. One of my favorite game quotes comes from that scene, and here it is:_

_"You're so cute, Miss Cloud." --Aerith Gainsborough. *grin grin grin grin grin grin grin grin*_

_But we're not done, yet, so don't count me out! Also, if you want a laugh, check out this story: http : / / www . fanfiction . net / s / 5862016 / 1 / Lost_in_Translation (just delete the spaces). I had a shit-load of fun writing it, and I've been told it's funny. It's set Crisis Core time, and it involves Genesis, Sephiroth, Angeal, Zack, and dropped eaves._

_Thank you to **Ayame Harushino** and **Calenlass Greenleaf1** for reviewing the last chapter! I'm glad you both liked it so much!_

_Next chapter should be posted 4-10-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	16. Son

____

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
by Portrait of a Scribe  
**_

_**Chapter 16: Son.

* * *

**_

"You are free to sever the chains of fate that bind you."  
--Legend of Dragoon

**

* * *

**

Everything after I lost my full awareness is a blur. My consciousness was fading in and out, and I can only dimly remember hearing a loud, distant clank. I saw Lightning bending over me, and somebody took Sephiroth away from me. I think I tried to keep a hold on him, but my strength was gone and I could do little more than watch as he was taken away.

I don't remember when they laid me out on the floor. Just the coppery smell of blood and its metallic taste coating my tongue and choking the air from my lungs with every movement. There were voices around me, and I can't remember if they were calm or not.

My world went white and red when they pulled Masamune out of me, but I didn't even have the energy to scream. All I could do was cough and hack and try to get the blood out of my airways. I was only half successful.

Everything gets hazy after that moment.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Nibelheim inn, completely exhausted, my chest bandaged, feeling cold even though there was a mountain of blankets piled on top of me.

And so here I am.

It's only been a moment since I opened my eyes, and everything's still blurry, though not so much from blood loss this time as from the fact that I seem to have been sleeping for a while. There's something warm and breathing wrapped around my left arm. I struggle to turn my head and look. I'm relieved when I finally manage to do so and find Sephiroth sleeping there, curled into my side and looking as innocent as he has since his rebirth.

It's a welcome sight.

"He hasn't left your side since we rescued you." I blink sluggishly and turn to look at Firion. He's sitting in a chair at the side of the bed, wearing a tunic and breeches and toying with a long knife.

"…Firion," I greet lethargically. My voice rasps shamefully, but I can't bring myself to care. He gives me a small smile.

"You've been out another three days," he tells me, and I can tell that he's amused. "You seem to have the worst luck out of all of us when it comes to recovery times."

I huff, but it's an amused sound… at least until my chest protests angrily and I groan, lying back against the pillow, again.

"Tha's 'cause y'all don' git hurt 's bad 's I do," I slur, and I don't care enough not to let my native accent slip through. The look of surprise on Firion's face is priceless, as is his laughter when he cracks up a second later. I just sigh and settle in again, enduring his amusement with a surprising amount of patience.

"S-Sorry," he gasps a few seconds later. "I just didn't expect such an accent from you."

I take a deep, steady breath. "I figur'd 's much. At leas' you're not teasin' me 'bout it like th' guys in th' army did."

Firion smiles at me. Then he leans forward, hands glowing.

"I'm going to use another Curaga on you," he explains. I grunt noncommittally, and lie still as he presses his hands to my chest. The light pressure makes me gasp in agony, and stars explode in my vision, but soon enough, the pain fades slightly and I can breathe normally again. I manage to hold still until Firion cuts off the flow of the spell. Then I test out my strength and manage to move without feeling too much pain.

"Thanks," I say quietly, managing to go back to my normal mode of speech again. Firion nods, and I sit up, gently extricating my arm from Sephiroth's grasp. It only takes half a second of assessment to realize that I'm naked from the waist up, and that my torso is bandaged. I sniff myself experimentally.

The acrid smell of melted metal and Mako fumes hits my nose. Gross.

"Good God, I reek," I mutter, and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

A wave of dizziness hits me as I try to stand, and I groan and sink back down to sit on the mattress with a soft curse. Firion is smiling at me when the yellow haze clears itself from my vision.

"Would you like some help?" he asks. I have to bite my tongue to keep from snapping back at him in reply. I'm too irritable for my own good right now, and I know that he's only trying to help.

"No, I'm fine," I say instead. "Just a head-rush, that's all." I take a deep breath and look over at Sephiroth briefly before turning my gaze back to Firion. "I have to shower. Can you watch him for a few minutes?"

Firion nods easily, and then I get up and walk shakily out of the room, heading to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. The first thing I notice when I enter is that one of the showers is running. The stalls are set up cubicle-style, but for the entrances to the cubicles, there's just a pair of saloon-style doors each to keep a person's modesty. They cover from the shoulder to mid-thigh on most people.

My shower-buddy for the moment seems to be Lightning. I can make out her strawberry-blonde hair through the steam.

I don't say anything, just grab a towel from the rack and set it on the bench beside the stall at the far end. It only takes me another minute to summon my spare change of clothes and armor from my subspace pocket and set them on the bench next to the towel. When that's done, I seat myself on the wooden surface and stiffly get to work unraveling the bandages from my torso.

Some of the blood has dried on the gauze, so it's painful to try to get them off me. By the time I manage to remove them entirely, I've reopened the slash across my chest as well as the impalement wound. I grimace, dump the linen unceremoniously on the bench, and stand to try to strip out of my pants.

I've removed my socks and undone the button when I hear the door fly open. I barely have a second to catch sight of a head of silver hair before a small missile barrels into my legs and latches on as I waver for balance, only just managing to catch myself against the wall in time to keep from toppling over.

Shit, this kid has some power to him.

But Sephiroth's shaking, and I can see his breath hitching. I sigh silently, and bend over stiffly to pull him off my legs. As I pick him up and set his feet on the bench, I notice Terra standing inside the doorway, watching us. Her cheeks are tinged pink. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she clears her throat before she looks away.

"Is there something you needed, Terra?" I ask quietly. She shakes her head, still reluctant to look at me.

"No," she replies. "I just saw Sephiroth come in here, and thought I'd see if he needed any help."

Sephiroth turns and scowls at her. I narrow my gaze at him.

"I don't need your help!" His exclamation makes me blink and frown.

"Sephiroth!" I scold him, watching as he flinches slightly and looks at his feet. "There's no need to be rude."

He mumbles a nearly-indistinct apology, and I turn to Terra.

"I'm going to take a shower," I explain to her, knowing that I still smell like the evidence of my battle. "Did you need anything before I do?"

She shakes her head, and turns to go before she pauses and looks back at me with a smile.

"I'm glad you're awake, Cloud," she states. There's a look in her eyes that confuses me slightly, but before I can ask her about her emotions, she's gone, the door shutting quietly behind her. I stand there for a long moment, trying to identify what I saw. Eventually, I sigh and look down at Sephiroth with a resigned expression on my face.

"Seems like we're both kinda messy, huh?" I ask. He looks up at me from under his bangs, and I can see his lower lip sticking out slightly. We stare at each other for a moment. Then I sigh and turn away from him.

"Either you can bathe yourself, or you can shower with me so I can wash your back," I tell him, unzipping my pants and letting them drop into a smelly puddle of cloth around my feet, leaving me in my boxers. I glance at Sephiroth over my shoulder; he's dressed in what I recognize to be a shirt we saw at the general store earlier. Now that I can think past the haze of pain and blood I was submerged in during our battle, I realize that he was nude when I freed him. Poor guy, the others must've had to carry him through that blizzard without a stitch of clothing on him. Of course, one of them probably wrapped him in their cloak or something, but…

Poor guy.

There's a second of silence, during which I step out of my pants and pick them up to fold them neatly. Then I hear Sephiroth shift behind me, and I turn to find him struggling to get one arm out of a stubborn, too-big sleeve. It's a sight that is- dare I say it?- _cute_. As in the adorable, I-just-want-to-pinch-those-little-cheeks kind of cute that grandmothers and aunts always gush about.

Grin. It's a good thing he can't hear my thoughts. He'd be pissed for _days_.

"Need some help?" I ask quietly. He gives me a glare, but coming from the round face of a child, it lacks its desired heat.

"No," he replies. He actually sounds petulant. I watch as he struggles for a few more minutes before he finally looks up at me with defeat and embarrassment in his slitted, Mako-green eyes.

"Yes," he whines reluctantly. I resist the urge to smile, knowing that he'll probably take it the wrong way if I do. Then I reach out and take the hem of the shirt in my hands. In one swift, professional motion, the shirt comes off over his head, leaving him naked in the humid air. One movement later, I've folded it and set it down next to my towel. Sephiroth watches me closely as I walk over to the stall I've chosen and start the water running. I know it'll take a minute or two- or ten- to get some warm water in there. I take the time to go over to the towel rack and grab another one for Sephiroth's use.

Sure enough, by the time I pad back over to the shower stall, the water is steaming hot and Sephiroth is over checking the temperature. I stack his towel on top of mine and come over to stand behind him, running my hand through the stream. The knob squeaks in protest as I turn it, lowering the temperature to a much more bearable heat.

Sighing silently, I turn away from my adoptive son and strip out of my boxers, tossing them on top of my soiled pants. Then I push through the partition and step into the steaming stream of water. Whether he wants to join me or not is up to Sephiroth. I really don't care.

There's a small bench bolted to the wall opposite the showerhead. The walls- two of which are stone where the other two are wood- are white, and the stalls themselves are short enough that I can see over their tops. Fixed on the wall opposite the partition shutters is a liquid soap dispenser. There's a small, hand-sized mirror hung next to the soap.

Bowing my head, I plunge my shoulders and neck under the soothing heat of the water, bracing my hands against the wall as I relax into the steady stream. The hot water makes my wounds sting, but it's more the sting of awareness than actual pain. It feels good. Before long, my hair is soaked enough that the spikes are drooping, though even that isn't enough to make it lie completely flat. As it is, when I feel the hesitant touch of a small hand on my knee a few minutes later, I wordlessly move over so that Sephiroth can share the water with me.

"Cloud?"

I hum in acknowledgment, wanting him to know that I'm listening even though the heat is making me sleepy again.

"I'm really, really sorry." His voice is small, as small as he is, and the genuine remorse in it tugs at my heartstrings. I sigh and open my eyes, looking down at him to find him looking up at me, his eyes wide even though he has water streaming into them. I straighten up, and reach down to pat him on the head, offering him a smile.

"It's not your fault, Seph," I murmur. "She used you. I know you wouldn't have taken part in such a thing willingly."

He stares at me from under my hand for a long moment, his mouth open as though he wants to say something. Then presses his lips together and nods. I get the feeling that he hasn't forgiven himself, yet, but the fact that I don't blame him is something I'm just going to have to show him over time. After all, he and I are a lot more alike than I usually give us credit for.

"C'mere," I say, and I smile faintly and reach down to pick him up and stand him on the bench. Sephiroth's protest is weak at best, because he's laughing a little. I adjust the showerhead so that the water drenches him for a few seconds, and then I direct it back onto myself, reaching over to the liquid soap dispenser. A couple of pushes against the lever leaves a gob of flower-scented soap in the middle of my palm.

I exchange a rueful glance with Sephiroth when the scent reaches our noses, and then I shrug.

"Sorry," I say, "but it can't be helped right now."

And with that, I upend my hand on top of his head. He squawks briefly, but he relaxes quickly enough when I start rubbing the cleaning agent into his silver hair.

Huh. It's softer than I would've thought. Who'da thunk it?

I've bathed each of my kids at least once, whether it was when they were sick and half-asleep, or if it was just a normal day and they needed a bath… except for Sephiroth. He's never asked for my help, before. Maybe it's just because of his memories of his other life, but he's always been at least a little uncomfortable around me. It's actually a little bit of a relief to see him relaxing in my presence enough to ask for my help.

After all, being in a three-year-old body means he can't reach the dispenser of the soap-slash-shampoo that I just splattered into his hair.

Hee hee.

It only takes me a minute of working the soap-shampoo-stuff into his hair before it's completely white with only a hint of silver in it. The bubbles are making it stand up in all directions.

I hesitate before I go to pull away, thinking. Then a smirk twitches the corners of my lips upward, and I run my hands from the sides of his head upward past his crown, pulling his hair into a bubbly Mohawk.

Snigger.

Sephiroth stares at me for a long moment.

"What did you just do?" he asks when I let my hands drop to my sides. I grin at him, and grab the mirror. I have to rinse the steam off of it before I hold it up for him to look at. When Sephiroth sees the hairdo I just gave him, his eyes go wide, his mouth falls open, and he gives a short bark of laughter that sounds indignant and amused at the same time. Before long, he's giggling like the three-year-old he is and I'm chuckling because he's amused.

He turns shining eyes and a broad grin on me a second later, and I smile at him in response before hanging the mirror back up and getting some soap for myself. After all, I think I might still have blood crusted in my hair. It's not a nice feeling.

Before long, I've got my own hair soaped up, but I pause when Sephiroth puts his hand on my elbow. I look down at him inquiringly, and watch as he beckons for me to kneel. Raising an eyebrow, I do as I'm told, wondering silently what he's up to.

His hands skim up my hair for a few seconds, his touch so light that I can't measure what he's doing. But he's giggling, and I get the feeling that I'm going to look utterly ridiculous in a moment or two.

"All done!" he exclaims. Blinking, I frown up at him before I go for the mirror again. He's managed to group my normally unruly spikes into something that resembles a guy I once saw in Sector 7. Meaning that I now have about seven tall spikes sticking straight out from my head- not in my usual, _natural_,hairdo, but in something resembling a porcupine or a hedgehog. My reflection draws a bark of laughter out of me. The next thing I know, Sephiroth has vanished, and I look around as I get to my feet again.

"Miss Lightning, miss Lightning!"

Oh, _shit._

I hear Lightning's startled gasp from the next stall over, and slap my hand over my face, mortified.

I can't _believe_ he's doing this! He's got the mind of a thirty-three-year-old, he should know not to disturb a woman when she's showering!

"Look at Cloud's hair!"

I groan and straighten up fully so that I can lean over the partition, frowning at my adoptive son.

"Sephiroth, stop that!" I yelp, seeing him peeking under the partition of Lightning's stall. "You don't _do_ that!"

He looks back at me with wide, confused eyes, and cocks his head to the side.

"What's the matter?" he asks. I sigh.

I try to keep in mind that Sephiroth was raised in a cold, impersonal lab in his first life that allowed him little to no privacy. He has _no_ concept of modesty in front of the opposite gender, it seems.

"It's a thing called _modesty,_ Seph," I drawl, and then raise an eyebrow at him, motioning to him with my chin to come back to the shower. "Give Lightning some privacy, would you?"

Sephiroth grumbles something, and then glances back inside Lightning's stall.

"Sorry," he says, and then he scampers- _scampers?!-_ back to me. As I shake my head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment, I hear Lightning giggling.

Wait a minute.

_Lightning_ is _giggling?!_

I think the world just ended. Seriously. I'm expecting to hear trumpets and see angels any second, now. The second coming has got to be at hand if _Lightning_ is _laughing._

As Sephiroth ducks under the partition to our stall, I look curiously over at Lightning's cubicle to find that she's staring over at me, a smirk on her face, her eyes glinting with amusement.

"Nice hairdo, Cloud," she giggles, and then she ducks back out of sight before I can reply. I sigh, chuckle, and turn back to Sephiroth, who's looking up at me with his head ducked, seemingly awaiting a scolding.

I raise my eyebrow, but don't say anything before I duck my head back under the water and start rinsing my hair out. I hiss as the soap runs over my reopened wounds, but soon enough I manage to push the pain aside in favor of washing.

There's a long moment during which neither of us says anything.

"Are you mad?" Sephiroth's question breaks the relative silence, and I sigh before looking over at him with a small grin.

"Nah," I admit, reaching out to ruffle his hair slightly. "You just haven't learned the concept of modesty, yet, it seems."

He blinks at me. I think for a moment on how best to phrase my next words.

"What I mean is that, while it's generally okay for guys to see each other naked if they know each other well, it's not the same between guys and girls," I finally tell him. "Especially if it's someone you don't know."

He blinks at me again.

"But why?" he asks, honestly confused. "It's just bodies and skin, right? It's nothing I haven't seen before."

I sigh. "I _know_ that, but you look like a three-year-old now, Seph. Most three-year-olds don't have modesty, no, but they also don't know what a girl's body looks like." I pause, struggling for words. "You just don't go up to a girl who's in a shower and stare at them. Usually, if you do that, you're practically _asking_ to get slapped."

He blinks again. "But Chie never slapped me."

Now it's my turn to be confused, at least until I realize who he's talking about.

"Chie Jerrel?" I ask. When he nods, I look at him curiously, my hands pausing in washing out my hair. "How would you know what Chie Jerrel looked like?"

He shrugs.

"She was Terra Jerrel's twin sister," he says, as though it's obvious. "Terra was with Angeal, and Chie was with me."

Oh. _Oh._

"Wait, you _dated?!"_ I demand, stunned by this revelation. _Sephiroth, dating?!_

Input command, processing. …Does. Not. _Compute._

"…Shit," I mutter. Well, there go most of my preconceptions about him. "I can't picture you dating. You always gave off this persona of 'I'm a cold, badass war-hero who'll massacre you if you're insubordinate,' if you know what I mean."

He shrugs.

"I know," he says simply. "I had to. Public image and all that, you know?"

I sigh, and then chuckle. "I think I get what you're saying."

Then I pause again, and finally shake my head. "I just can't wrap my mind around the concept of _you, _of all people, _dating._ I mean, Angeal I can see, but you?"

He frowns at me as I shake my head again.

"Is it really so hard to picture?" he asks. I look him in the eye and say, without a doubt in my mind or voice, that _yes,_ it _is_ hard to picture and _no,_ I'm probably never going to be able to imagine it, sorry.

He just sighs, closes his eyes, and holds still while I direct the water onto him, again. Within seconds, his hair is flat and silver once more, and he runs his hands through it, making sure every bit of that flowery-smelling concoction is gone. I can't say I blame him. After he's rinsed, I move the showerhead back to its original position, and the next thing I know, he's looking up at me.

"Cloud?" he asks. I blink, and hum to let him know I'm listening. "Could you hand me some of that soap? I have JENOVA-goop in places I didn't even know I had."

I stare at him openly for a few seconds, then I laugh and do as he's asked.

"Nice way of wording it," I congratulate him. He looks at me oddly, soaping himself up, but doesn't comment. I wait until he nods that he's finished to turn the spray on him again.

Five minutes later, I shut off the water and, hurriedly checking to make sure Lightning isn't out in the room, I reach out and grab our towels, handing one to Sephiroth and quickly drying my hair off. It only takes me a second to get my hair to its usual spiky-but-fluffy consistency and, though it's still damp, at least it's not dripping down my neck anymore. A minute later, I'm fully dry, wrapping the towel around my waist and tucking it into place. The area around my chest is still a little damp due to the fact that I tried to avoid my wounds, but otherwise I'm pleased to announce that I'm squeaky clean and comfortably dry.

Yay.

But I find that I just have to smile at the sight of Sephiroth fumbling with his towel as he tries to dry his hair. He's not having much luck.

"May I?" I ask him, gesturing to the towel. He huffs and lowers his hands, letting me take the cotton cloth from him. I make sure to be gentle as I rub the towel over his head, making sure to dry his ears inside and out. Despite my care, his hair still sticks up everywhere by the time I'm through- it's a cute look, though- and as I drape the towel across his shoulders, gently rubbing him down, he watches me. I can't tell what he's thinking, but for now I'm content just to make sure he's dry.

"Cloud?" His voice brings my attention to him, but thankfully for him, I'm done drying him. I give him a small smile as I drape the towel securely across his shoulders, pulling the makeshift cape closed and then reaching up to smooth his hair down.

"What is it?" I ask as he peers out at me from under his silver bangs. His eyes are guarded when I meet them.

He just stares up at me for a long moment.

"Are you sure you want to try to raise me?"

What? "Why wouldn't I?"

He looks down, fidgeting slightly with the towel.

"We… We were enemies… in both my past life, and the past few months," he finally says, and his voice is small again, more uncertain than I think he's ever sounded. I sigh, and slide my palms underneath his chin, imitating what I've seen Tifa do as I tilt his head up so that he's looking me in the eye.

"You, Sephiroth, deserve to have a normal childhood," I state with certainty, refusing to turn away from his Mako gaze. "And I don't care that we were once enemies. We're family now, and that's all that matters."

I use my thumb to wipe away a drop of water on his cheek that escaped my attention earlier.

"You're my son," I murmur to him, and it surprises me only slightly to find that it's actually a sincere sentiment. "It doesn't matter what you were in the past, you're my son, now. _That_ is all that matters."

I lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his forehead before pulling away and smiling reassuringly at him. It surprises me a little to see tears in his eyes, but I don't call him on it. I just pull him into a hug before picking him up and carrying him back out into the main shower area. It only takes me a second to set him down on the bench and pick up his shirt. He drops the towel and I work the clothing over his head, letting him push his arms through the sleeves. It's only afterwards that I turn away from him to put on my clean boxers and the black pants that I laid out earlier.

Just after I sit down on the bench to pull on some socks and my boots, a pair of small, thin arms slides around my neck, and I feel a slightly cold nose press into my shoulder blade. I pause, laying a hand on Sephiroth's forearm.

"What's the matter?" I ask. His breath drifts across my skin in a warm puff as he exhales.

"Thank you." He sniffles slightly. He doesn't speak for a moment, but I can sense that he has more to say.

"You're…" He pauses. "You're a great dad, Cloud. Better… Better than any other dad I've ever known."

I smile, but don't say anything in response except for a soft 'thank you.' There's nothing more that needs to be said.

A few minutes later, I'm fully clothed, if a little sleepy, and we head out of the bathroom after I banish my dirty clothes to my subspace pocket and hang up our towels. I think I saw Lightning watching us with a strangely soft look on her face as we left.

Ten minutes later, we're in our room again and I've been re-bandaged, this time by Squall, who happens to be one of our roommates. Our other companion seems to be Cecil, but he's downstairs at the moment. My eyes are drooping by the time that Squall hands me my black sweater back. He nods at me once.

"Get some rest," he orders, and I watch him kick off his boots before he lays back on the bed next to mine and Sephiroth's, closing his eyes. "That's about all we can do while we're waiting for the storm to let up."

Huh. Three days and it's still raging? That's odd, but not unheard of. Nothing to worry about, I think.

As I pull back the covers, letting Sephiroth make himself comfortable before I slide in next to him and cover us both back up, I muse faintly on the strange weather. Sephiroth curls into my side again, and I take a deep breath, feeling my eyelids try to close.

Huh. I must be more tired than I thought.

It only briefly occurs to me before I drift off that I haven't heard a peep out of Zack for the duration of the time I've been awake.

Then I'm in dreamland and that thought is far away.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of it except the ideas that spawned this fic and scene._

_Ah, I know it's a day late, but I hope you'll forgive me for that. I had some internet trouble yesterday, and I didn't actually finish it until today. Heh heh heh._

_I like this scene. Little Sephiroth and daddy!Cloud just make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Is it the same for you? XD_

_Yeah, Cloud's being pretty parental here and probably a little out of character, but he's been taking tips from Tifa AND he's wounded. Blood loss can affect a person for a while! ...So there's the excuse._

_I'm more than a little disappointed that nobody has any feedback from the chapter 15. I had a lot of fun writing the fight scene, as well as the shop scene where they find the dress and stuff. You know, you CAN get that stuff on Dissidia... It has the "Allure of Honey" bonus ability. Don't know exactly what it does, yet (I haven't gotten it), but the first time I saw it listed on there I laughed myself right out of my chair in the middle of my college cafeteria. Seriously. Go on youtube and do a search for "Crossdressing Cloud". It should bring up some walkthroughs of that part of the FFVII game. Utterly HILARIOUS._

_Ahem._

_Um... Nobody reviewed the last chapter, so I don't have anybody specific to thank... But thank you to everybody who's reading this, even if you haven't reviewed..._

_Next chapter should be posted 4-15-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	17. Resilience

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

__

**Chapter 17: Resilience.**

* * *

"_I will __**not**__ bow. I will __**not**__ break."  
--Breaking Benjamin, "I Will Not Bow"_

* * *

'_Hey, Cloud.'_

…Zack? What is it?

'_You… You're okay, right?'_

…Of course… Why wouldn't I be…?

'_You got hurt by Sephiroth… came into contact with JENOVA…'_

Zack, I'm fine… Is that guilt I'm sensing from you?

'…'

Don't blame yourself. Aerith would call you silly for doing that.

'_I know, I know… but I can't help but think… if I'd been there…'_

I might not have gotten hurt?

'…_Yeah.'_

Sigh… Zack, you're being an idiot. I knew what I was getting into when I chased JENOVA up the mountain.

'…'

Zack. If you don't cheer up, I'm going to summon you and sic Sephiroth on you. Seriously. I'll tell him to use the "cute eyes."

'…_Oh, dear. I suddenly fear for the state of my masculinity…'_

Good to hear you're taking my advice. That was an almost-good joke.

'_Hey! That was a greatjoke!'_

No, you just think it was.

'_Don't be a jerk, Cloud!'_

Sticks and stones, Zack. Sticks and stones.

'_Still a jerk, Cloud.'_

_Must_ I repeat what I just said?

'_Jeez! You're almost as bad as Angeal! Next thing I know, you'll be giving me the Dreams, Pride, and Honor speech!'_

…Hmm. Now, there's an idea.

'…_Oh, shit.'_

At least the look on your face will be something to see. I'll just point and laugh. Or… Maybe I'll get _Angeal_ to lecture you when we get back.

'_You wouldn't!'_

Oh, _yes, _I _would._

'_I fucking __**hate**__ you.'_

Love you, too, bro. Love you, too.

'_You're lucky I'm of a relatively even temperament.'_

Don't I know it.

'_And you're lucky I'm stuck inside your body right now, else I'd be whacking you on the head with the Buster Sword.'_

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

"Cloud?"

Blink blink. I turn to Sephiroth where he's peering over my shoulder, and quirk a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Who are you talking to?" When I give him another inquisitive look, he taps his temple. "You've got that look on your face again. Are you talking to Fenrir, or to Griever?"

Ah. I forgot that Seph doesn't know that Zack is one of my Summons.

"Zack," I reply, facing forward and readjusting my grip on him. His arms tighten around my shoulders before I settle him a little bit more securely in the piggyback position that I'm carrying him in.

It's been about a week since we left Nibelheim. We were stuck there for almost two weeks due to the blizzard and the snow it dumped on the ground. By the end of that time, we were all getting more than a little antsy, even Sephiroth, who has always been one of the calmest people I know. Between Zidane and Bartz' second-Monday-inside pranking war, and Squall's cold taciturnity that grew icier by the day, I think everyone was more than relieved to get out of there.

But I utterly refused to leave Sephiroth in Nibelheim. Not when we probably wouldn't be coming back there again and he's just a three-year-old. A very smart three-year-old, yes, but still a three-year-old.

So what are we doing now?

We're following our Crystals' light, heading toward where Chaos is undoubtedly waiting. And I'm carrying Sephiroth because he can't keep up with us due to his relatively short stature and lack of endurance. Believe me, he was pretty stubborn at first, insisting on trying to keep pace with us. He managed for a while by taking three steps for every one of mine, but it wasn't long before he got tired.

Speaking of tired… I haven't told anyone else, but my wound is hurting again. It still hasn't healed completely.

Sigh… As Tifa would say, I'm a right mess.

'_Your face is a right mess.'_

Your mom's a right mess.

'_Hey! Leave my mom out of this!'_

You asked for it.

'_I did not! I just said your face is a mess!'_

And I retorted that your mom's a mess.

'_I told you to leave my mom out of this!'_

Sigh… We're talking ourselves in circles, Zack. And you started it.

"Cloud?"

Argh, this is giving me a headache. It's not easy trying to carry on two conversations at once and keep everything straight.

"What is it?" I ask, and focus back in to my surroundings just in time to avoid tripping over a stone on the ground.

"What do you mean, you're talking to Zack?"

I see Lightning and Squall glance at me.

"I mean I'm talking to Zack."

"I heard that, but what's that supposed to mean?"

I sigh, and glance over my shoulder at my adoptive son. "When I was brought to Cosmos' world, Zack was standing too close to me and got brought here, too. He was trapped in a Summonstone when I found him."

Sephiroth blinks wide, Mako-green eyes at me, his mouth dropping open. Then his entire face lights up in a humongous grin that's startling in its intensity.

"That is _so cool!"_ he exclaims. I gape at him for a long few moments, stopping in my tracks. Finally, I bark a laugh and continue onwards, laughing as I walk.

Sephiroth tugs gently on a lock of my hair, and I can sense his annoyance.

"What's so funny?" he asks. I look at him over my shoulder, grinning.

"Are you channeling Yuffie, or something?" I ask. "'Cause you sounded just like her right there."

Sephiroth makes a face at me.

"Eeeeewwww." He turns his head away in order to blow a raspberry at something I can't see, and then looks back at me. "She's got cooties!"

I actually have to stop and set him down because I'm laughing so hard, and Zack's laughing so hard, and I can't breathe because it's so funny, and _oh my God, I think my eyes are watering._

"But she _does!"_ Sephiroth protests. That, of course, makes me laugh harder. By now, I can hear other members of our group laughing along with us, and I can sense a couple of stares, but I don't care that I'm acting out of character.

"I-I haven't-" I break off my sentence to take a gulp of air, soothing the stitch in my side only slightly. "I h-haven't-"

I can't even finish because I'm still laughing so hard.

Damn.

'_Damn is right!'_ Zack sounds amazed. _'Even _I_ could never get you to laugh this much.'_

I know! And Seph isn't even _trying!_

By the time my laughter manages to come to a gasping stop, it's been probably about five minutes straight and Sephiroth is waiting patiently for me to get myself under control. When I can finally look at him without cracking up, I still can't stop grinning. He's pouting, his lower lip stuck out and his arms crossed, and I'm guessing that the glare he's giving me is supposed to look dangerous. It really only makes him look like a pissed-off three-year-old who hasn't gotten his way.

"Damn, I haven't laughed that much in…" I pause, and think really _hard._ Blink, blink. "Come to think of it, I never _have_ laughed that hard." I grin at him, and reach out to ruffle his hair when he looks up at me inquisitively from under his frown.

"It's a good thing, Seph," I assure him, and make sure to meet his gaze. "Thank you."

'_Tell him I say thank you, as well,' _Zack requests. I can hear Fenrir and Griever chortling in the background, content to watch the scene without taking part in it.

"Zack says 'thank you,' as well," I relay. He stares at me sullenly for a moment longer, and then I can _see_ his curiosity visibly get the better of him.

"Can I see him?" he asks, his voice eager. I smile.

Zack, you up for a trek?

'_Sure thing!'_

I smile and summon my best friend to this plane of existence. Zack appears in his customary burst of Lifestream and bows with a flourish.

"Zack Fair, at your service!" he exclaims jubilantly.

"Zack!" Sephiroth yelps, and I see Zack jerk as he catches the flying silver missile that my son has just turned himself into.

Come to think of it, Sephiroth's pretty good at tackling-slash-glomping people. I wonder why? Oh, well. Probably just his brothers' influence on him. Maybe Marlene's, too, considering how she usually greets Barret when he comes to visit. But Zack's laughing, and Seph's happy, and I just can't fight down the smile that overtakes my mouth. Finally, I shake my head and trudge onward, feeling the White Materia in my hand warm in what seems almost like affection.

"Come on," I call to my best friend and my son. "You can catch up while we walk."

"Right." Zack looks at me with a grin as he says this, but I'm amazed when he blinks in surprise, alarm spreading through his gaze.

A second later, I feel my strength draining rapidly. When I look down, I grit my teeth to hold down my own panic.

I can see through my hand. Again.

"Cloud!" Terra's the one who's called my name, and I can see the rest of them watching me with varying degrees of unease on their faces.

I grind my teeth even further when I see a pyrefly drift out from my chest and into the air before me.

No. I'm not ready to die, yet. I have to hold on, to beat Chaos, to see to it that Seph and Zack and the rest of our companions get home okay.

It's the thought of the people around me that holds me here.

As the pyreflies swirl slowly back into my body, I collapse to one knee, my breath heavy and my mind tired. It took a strangely large amount of mental energy to pull myself together… literally. And now…

I sigh, and push myself back to my feet.

There's nowhere else to go, but forward.

"Shouldn't you-?" asks Firion as I pass by him. I shake my head, cutting him off.

"There's nothing to do," I intone softly, pausing by Lightning. "It's becoming as much of a mental battle as a physical one, at this point. And we've wasted enough time, already."

I see Lightning nod slowly out of the corner of my eye.

"Onwards, then?" she asks quietly. I raise a wry eyebrow.

"Onwards, it is," I agree. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all go home."

But I don't move as the rest of them resume the trek, hanging back until I meet back up with Zack and Sephiroth. Surprisingly, Squall is walking by them, his hands shoved into his pockets and his usual look of nonchalance written across his features.

A sudden thought hits me, and I reach into the recesses of my mind for my connection with Griever.

Hey, Griever. You awake?

He stirs sleepily. _'I am now. What is it?'_

Would you like to go with Squall?

_That_ gets his attention.

'_Why are you asking?'_

I give him a mental shrug even as I start walking to keep pace with the others.

Because despite how long we've known each other, you're much more familiar with Squall than you are with me and the folks back home. And you two seem to get along pretty well.

He's quiet for a moment. _'We are… old friends.'_

I hum and briefly close my eyes.

So, would you like to go with him? I'm sure he'd be glad for your company and for your help.

Griever sighs. _'I'll never reside in your mind again, will I?'_

I have to admit that he has a point… but I also know that he'll be happier with Squall.

As long as you're happy, Griever. That's all that matters. And who knows? Squall and I are only from different time periods of the same planet. Maybe I'll find you in a Materia again someday.

'_I'm already in a Materia,'_ he grumbles.

All the better to get you out of it, then, right? He did mention something about "Junctioning" that one time, didn't he?

'_Junctioning is hazardous to Squall,'_ Griever states. _'The part of the mind that a Junctioned Summon resides in is the part that houses a person's long-term memory. He has lost memories before.'_

…Oh. Well, wouldn't it only be temporary?

'…_Perhaps.'_ He seems to be considering it. _'Worst-case scenario, you have to teach him how to use Materia. He's as intelligent as he is a smart-ass. He'll pick it up pretty quickly.'_

I have to grin at that. It's hard to imagine Squall as being a "smart-ass."

So, do you want to try it, or not? Worst-case scenario, I just re-assimilate you and we carry on.

'…_Fine, give it a go,'_ he tells me. _'But don't come crying to me when something goes wrong and you end up crapping out a Summon Materia sometime next week.'_

I feel my right eye twitch. _Baaaaaad_ mental images.

Is _that_ where Hojo shoved those things? I wouldn't put it past that lunatic.

'_You don't want to know,'_ Griever deadpans. _'Now just do it.'_

Right. Now… how do I do it?

Griever sighs. _'Slice open your wrist and catch the blood in your other hand. I'll do the rest.'_

Ooh… I'm not going to like this, am I?

'_Probably not.'_

Shit.

'_Well, what did you __**think**__ Summon Materia are made of? Where do you think they get their distinctive red color from?'_

…

…Shit.

I swallow and barely manage to see the lance that takes a swipe at my feet before I'm sent tumbling with a gasp of alarm. My arm impacts with the rocky ground, earning a deep gash along my left forearm before I roll to my feet. When I come up again, I already have First Tsurugi out and ready as I search for my opponent.

I find myself faced with a mannequin that looks like somebody I've never seen before, its expression looking a little manic as it grins at me, baring its teeth in unmistakable bloodlust.

Well, it looks like I won't have to cut my wrist open, after all.

I grit my teeth and dash toward it with a growl of annoyance. My adrenaline is rushing, lending me strength. Mako surges through my veins as I easily call upon it.

The mannequin falls to the ground in two halves, bisected from crotch to crown, a millisecond later.

I scoff at its relative weakness and banish First Tsurugi before turning to continue up the trail. It's as I clench my fist that I remember, with a twinge, the wound on my forearm.

Okay, Griever, let's get this done.

I keep walking as I cup my hand beneath my elbow, from which my blood is dripping in a fairly constant stream. I get some slightly concerned looks from my companions, but I shrug to their unasked questions and lift my chin in a "let's get going" motion.

It's not long before I look down and realize that the blood in my hand is glowing faintly. Streaked into the red is the unmistakable white-green of the Mako, eternally marking me as an experiment, as the SOLDIER that I once wanted to be, but the status of which was ever unattainable.

Once my palm starts to overflow and I'm beginning to feel a tiny bit tired, the blood in my palm begins to glow brighter than it already is, and soon enough, an invisible force starts to swirl it into a round shape. Before long, the Mako starts crystallizing, and I gasp as I suddenly feel Griever's presence leave my mind. Next to me, Squall stops and turns to look at me, and I can feel his astonishment as he, too, watches the blood form into an orb of Materia.

"What in the hell-?" he demands, coming over to peer at the swirling substance. I swallow.

"Griever," I murmur with a surprising amount of sadness sitting heavy in my chest. "We're separating."

It's going to be difficult without his constant quips in the back of my head, but if he'll be happier…

"Why?" Squall asks. I don't answer, instead preferring to watch as the Mako finishes crystallizing and the Summon Materia drops into the palm of my blood-wet hand, crimson-tinted from the material I've given it.

Really, it's an intriguing sight to behold.

As it finishes the process, I pull my Restore Materia from my pocket (not subspace- with the amount of accidents and battles I routinely take part in, I've taken to carrying it on my person at all times) and heal my arm up so that only the barest of discolorations remains. Then I look over at Squall, take his hand, and drop the Summon Materia into his palm before closing his fingers over the orb. He looks at me without an expression, but I can see the surprise and slight revulsion in his gaze.

"Cloud, what-?"

"He'll be happier with you." I look him directly in the eye as I say this, knowing with certainty the truth of my words. "He's been too quiet these past few weeks, and I've never seen or heard him as pleased as when he interacted with you, Squall. He's your partner, now."

I nod to him and then let his hand go, turning to follow the others, who are oblivious to our exchange.

It's a long moment before I hear Squall follow us.

Then we don't talk at all, just head on our way.

Yay.

* * *

It's not long before we run into our next obstacle.

Currently, we've found our way into a fortress of some kind. I noticed when we entered that Terra seemed a little edgy, but I ignored it at the time. It isn't until now, with that insane laugh echoing through the building, that I realize why.

Kefka. That psycho-clown-who-won't-stay-dead is standing in the middle of the room with a sadistic grin on his fugly face.

'Fugly.' Nice word, right? It's a combination of 'fucking' and 'ugly.' 'Fucking ugly.' _Fugly._

It describes him well.

Ugh. _Why_ isn't he dead_,_ again? Oh, right. Because JENOVA blocked me when I went to kill him the last time. Damn.

"Well, well, well…" His voice is a low-pitched drawl, almost a growl, or a purr. "If it isn't the girl… and her little gang of misfit friends?"

Oh, I am _so_ going to _kill him!_

I must have a pretty homicidal expression on my face, because Kefka's looking smugly at me as I come to stand next to Zack, Sephiroth, and Terra, with Lightning at my shoulder. Kefka dances up to us, grinning in Terra's face briefly before he continues on to me and smirks broadly in my face.

"And here we have Sephiroth's little genetically-altered whore," he purrs, and runs his hand down my chest. I shudder with anger and fight down bile. "How's the head, puppet?"

I snarl, baring my teeth, and my hand flashes out to grab him around the offending wrist faster than he can react, so fast that I surprise even myself a little, and my other hand shoots out to wrap around his neck, my grip tight.

"Shut up, you sick son of a bitch," I growl, almost spitting in my rage as I throw him back away from me. "And keep your filthy mitts to yourself!"

He cackles despite the crushing force I applied to his throat, and grins as I take a half-step back away from him, feeling my stomach roil at the memory of his words.

'_Sephiroth's whore,'_ he called me. It's not the first time I've been called that, and it probably won't be the last. But it still makes me nauseous every time I hear it, since I know it's not true…

…is it?

I can't remember anything of the four years I spent under Hojo's _tender_ care. For all I know…

"Spike, don't listen to him!" It's Zack. "He's trying to get under your skin, and this isn't your fight."

I know that. I really do, but…

Kefka's cackling again, and I can feel my hands shaking as my gut roils.

"Oh, but it's true, isn't it?" he asks. I barely hear him over the rushing in my ears. "We found somebody who was _very_ willing to talk about your past, little bitch. An agreeable man, trapped in a computer, by the name of Hojo…"

My breath is coming faster, and I can feel my hands start to shake harder. How does he know about Hojo? _How does he know?_

"Cloud! Don't listen to him!"

Does this mean he's telling the truth?

"Cloud, are you okay?"

No, Cecil… No, I'm not. Far from it. I think I'm going to pass out, soon. Either that or vomit.

"_Cloud._" Kefka's cackle is positively evil. "Such a pretty name. I wonder if your skin is as soft as Hojo said it is… He said he certainly had a marvelous time with it when you were incapacitated in the labs…"

I gulp back bile. My head is spinning.

"Cloud?"

Oh, _fuck_. Does that mean…? Did Hojo really…? I… I wouldn't put it past that bastard… which means…

"Cloud!"

Zack and Sephiroth sound really concerned. I wonder why? I think I hear Terra shout something- she sounds really, _really_ angry- but I'm a little past caring. Right now, I'm more focused on what Kefka's saying, despite all my senses screaming at me to not listen to him, to ignore his words and walk away.

That clown is cackling again. "You don't remember, do you?" He sounds like he's having the time of his fucking life. "Oh, this is rich! The little whore can't remember those four years he was locked up under Hojo's knife!"

I…

"Cloud! Don't listen to him, he's lying!"

If he's lying, then _how does he know these things?_

Kefka's voice is a low, insidious growl. "He can't remember the four years he spent under Hojo's knife, being experimented on, tortured, raped, _broken._ Can't remember the feel of another man's hands on his body, of being carelessly cut open even as the scientists and the guards and the assistants all took him again and again and again…"

Oh… Oh, God… I really _am _going to be sick…

"Cloud!"

"Cloud!"

"CLOUD!"

"…_Cloud." Tifa looked up at me with a small smile as I walked into the room, a basket full of laundry in my hands. She was still on bed-rest after birthing Rinoa, so Marlene, Denzel, and I were helping around the house. I had just finished changing out the washing, and was getting ready to start folding what dry clothes we had. I smiled down at her as I set the basket on the end of Tifa's bed and crawled up to sit beside her, gazing down at our week-old daughter._

_Rinoa was sleeping in Tifa's arms, contentedly full after being nursed. My daughter looked so beautiful in that moment that I couldn't help but reach out to trace the line of her tiny nose with the tip of my finger. She scrunched up her face in her sleep and buried it in my fiancée's bosom before sighing and calming again. It was a relief to know that she was behaving like any other baby would…_

…_**Normal.**__ That was what it was. Normal._

"…_Cloud?" I looked up to find that Tifa was watching me, her brow faintly creased with concern. "What are you thinking of?"_

_I bit my lip, and slowly raised my hands to sign to her. 'I'm relieved that whatever Hojo… did to me… hasn't been passed on to her.'_

_Tifa looked at me, silent and studious. "Why would it?"_

_I looked back at her, and hesitated before I finally decided to tell her the truth._

'_I can't remember the four years I spent in Hojo's clutches before Zack busted us out of there,' I admitted. 'I have no idea what he did to me during that time. Frankly, I don't want to know. But… Four years… Four years, lost to that madman…'_

_She reached out and cradled my cheek in her hand before smiling and pressing a tender kiss to my lips. I sighed and melted into her touch, savoring the contact. When she finally drew back a moment later, she smiled at me and I found I couldn't be sad about the loss of her lips when she looked so radiant._

"_It doesn't matter what he did to you, Cloud," she told me with surety. "You are who you are, and nothing that… that…"_

'_Bastard?' I signed helpfully. She grinned and nodded._

"_I was trying to find a more child-appropriate way to put it, but yes," she agreed. "But whatever he did to you, you're still you. You're Cloud. And that's who we all love. __**You.**__"_

_I sighed and smiled at her._

_But even then, I had doubts in my mind…_

"Leave him alone, you bastard!" Zidane…?

I blink, coming back to myself to find that I'm staring at the ground.

"Oh, but I think he knows I'm telling the truth," Kefka gloats, and I can hear the glee in his voice as he taunts me. "He knows he's a whore, an experiment. He knows what he is."

I close my eyes, and feel annoyance surge in my chest even as certainty blooms in my mind.

"Are you done?" I pitch my voice loud enough that they can all hear, and everyone goes quiet. When I look up at him again, I'm feeling particularly homicidal. I can feel the stares of my companions on me, but I don't take my eyes from Kefka until I can visibly see his smile falter. Then I take a step toward him, and then another.

"Go fuck Exdeath or something if you have nothing better to do," I growl, and a little bit of Fenrir's snarling voice slips into my own. "Instead of wasting both your breath and my time."

I pause right in front of him, letting my killing intent seep into the surrounding air. He's a little shorter than me since he always hunches, so I lean down slightly to meet his gaze solidly.

"Don't assume you know anything about me," I say quietly, my voice a deadly hiss. "And don't presume to hold over my head any knowledge you may have gleaned about my past."

I straighten up and glare down at him for a second. "Now get out of my fucking way before I carve myself a new exit out of your quickly-cooling corpse."

He grins and moves aside with a mocking bow. I have to mentally coach myself to relax my hands, and march past him into the depths of the complex. I can hear Squall call my name, but I don't react, intent on getting away from all of them before I do something irreversible or embarrassing.

When Kefka bursts into laughter behind me, I briefly pause, reining in my fury and disgust before I continue on.

A moment or two later, I'm alone in an out-of-the-way corner, heavily shadowed and secluded from the main body of the complex by a series of pipes tangled so thick that only someone with either magic or Mako enhancements would be able to get to me. I can hear Terra shouting somewhere back where I came from, and I can hear Kefka's taunting voice, and I'm guessing that they're having a wizards' duel, because I can hear the sound of spells discharging and flying through the air.

It's only when I'm sure I'm alone that I stumble to the wall and throw up.

The sickness easing a bit, I back away from the wall and force myself to take deep breaths, calming myself and pushing all the bad pseudo-memories out of my head.

My stomach turns again.

I cover my mouth, gulping back bile, and try to force myself to think of better things than the phantom sensations of unkind hands manhandling my body, tainting my soul, wounding my pride, and breaking my spirit.

_Hojo cackled as he bent over me, a scalpel in one hand and a Summon Materia glinting in his other._

_There was nothing but the green haze of Mako and pain and sickness._

_He looked up at me shyly. "Good to see you, Cloud."_

"_Momma? Momma, even if they don't want us, we'll be okay. I'll take care of Seph and Aerith, I promise." Zack's slitted, blue-violet eyes were serious and scared all at once as he tried to be brave for his dying mother._

_Serious Mako-green eyes looked into my own. "You're the best dad I've ever known, Cloud."_

"_I love you, Cloud." Tifa gazed up at me where she was nursing Rinoa, love in her eyes._

"_Can I… can I sleep in here with you tonight?" He was scared and trying to hide it._

_She hugged me tightly around my middle. "Cloud… Welcome home!"_

_Rinoa stared up at me with big, big blue eyes that were a few shades darker than sapphire. "Da ba da ba da."_

_Aerith laughed and clapped, nodding as I asked her with some humor if I would ever get back into my own bed without waking up all the kids._

"_Cloud."Terra's voice is like steel, but I can hear the pain beneath her veneer of strength. "Will you please bury me here? I... I want to be close to the place where Angeal spent so much of his life."_

_Zack grinned at me and waved, letting me know I was forgiven for failing to save him._

"_So, do you have a girlfriend?" Mom's eyes were laughing at me even though she only smiled on the outside, falsely serious as she watched me groan in exasperation._

"_You'll come home… right, Cloud?" Denzel's grin told me he already knew the answer even as I nodded, feeling Tifa climb onto Fenrir and wrap her arms around my waist._

_Little Marlene's face grew cherry-red when I handed her the flower I had bought from Aerith on the way home from the bombing mission; she took it shyly and then ran to hide behind Tifa's long legs even as I exchanged an adoring, knowing look with my childhood friend._

"_Would you like to buy a flower? They're only one gil…" The girl looked so hopeful that I couldn't refuse._

_Tifa looked into my eyes, a soft smile on her lips. "We're a family, now. Right, Cloud?"_

"Yeah." I answer her almost unconsciously, something I wasn't able to do when she asked me the question. I had still been mute at the time.

My determination grows even as the shaking in my limbs subsides to the faintest of trembles.

"I won't bow," I whisper to myself, grinding my teeth and forcing all of my good memories to the front of my mind. "I will not break. I am Cloud Strife, and who I am is something that nobody can ever touch or destroy. Nothing can change who I am. I am Cloud. I am Cloud."

I open my eyes and straighten up, my heart hardening.

"I am Cloud."

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own anything related to Final Fantasy._

_FINALLY! I update again. It's been FOREVER since I was able to type! Between three end-of-year projects, a huge writer's block concerning this chapter, and the onset of finals, I haven't been able to finish this chapter until this afternoon. I am REALLY sorry, everybody! I'm out of school, now, though, so hopefully I'll be able to update semi-regularly again. Thank you for your patience!_

_I'm anticipating some questions regarding what Kefka was talking about and why I decided to add it in. Here's the reason: Cloud really __**doesn't**__ know what went on during the four years he was a captive of Shinra, and Kefka is just a sadistic bastard who likes to fuck with people's minds. Cloud, being who he is and loving who he loves, would find such things as Kefka was talking about to be abhorrent in the basest of senses. But he also knows that he has to be strong in order to get through the coming battles, so he pulls himself together, rough though the patchwork may end up, and moves on. That is Cloud's true strength, I feel: the stubbornness to pull through hardships and be strong for others when he needs to, when he can. He does the best he's able in any given situation to inspire confidence in others (at least, when he's fully aware of himself and the situation he's in)._

_But enough of my ramblings._

_I apologize for the semi-short length of this chapter, and for the long wait. Unfortunately, we have come to the point where I have to write a new chapter from scratch each and every time, so it may take me a little while to get the next one out. It depends on what I have to do with my life._

_A huge thank you goes to __**Calenlass Greenleaf1**__**, **__**Maeniel Celeres**__**, **__**apasserby**__**, **__**Steph**__**,**__ and __**CleverPhoenix**__ for reviewing the last chapter! If you're reading this, thank you so much for hanging in there with me!_

_Next chapter should be posted 5-25-10._

_-__**P**__ortrait of a __**S**__cribe_


	18. Confrontation

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

**_Chapter 18: Confrontation._**

* * *

_"Only the dead have seen the end of war."  
-Plato._

* * *

I've gotten a pretty firm grip over my mind by the time that the others finally catch up to me. It's been about a half an hour or so since I left them. I've taken up residence at the base of one of the walls, rolling the White Materia between my palms as I contemplate it. When I hear their footsteps approaching, I look up, keeping my features carefully neutral and forcing down all emotions so that they won't see the turmoil inside me.

"Everything okay?" I ask, looking at Terra. She's sporting a shiny red burn on the side of her face and neck. She gives me a half-grin that looks rather painful.

"Kefka's dead," she answers. I nod and get to my feet, watching as they all finally come even with me.

"We should get moving," I suggest. "Time's getting short." As though on cue, a pyrefly floats out of my hand and lingers in the air for just a second before I mentally force it back into me. Aren nods his agreement.

"Let's go," he says.

Everybody nods and continues on. I hang back again, waiting for my best friend and my son to meet up with me. But even though I walk abreast of them when they finally do, I remain silent. There's nothing I can say. I want to tell them I'm okay, but that would be a bald-faced lie, so I keep my mouth shut. This serves the double-purpose of also keeping what little's left of my last meal in my stomach.

By the time anybody speaks to me, again, we've long since left Kefka's hideout behind.

"Cloud…?" It's Zack. He's still carrying Sephiroth on his back. Apparently, Kefka was so boring and unoriginal that Sephiroth decided to take a nap. He hasn't woken, yet.

I sigh and close my eyes. "What is it, Zack?"

His glowing violet gaze meets mine when I finally look over at him.

"Kefka was lying, you know," he says quietly. "Hojo didn't rape you."

I look away, unable to meet his eyes anymore.

No, Hojo didn't… but the guards did. I remember that, now, and it makes me feel filthy all over, like I've been dipped in oil and rolled in dirt and then left to drown in gasoline. It makes my skin crawl and my gut roil.

"I know," I tell Zack, forcing the memories out of my head. I'll deal with this later, after Chaos has been defeated and this crisis has been averted.

Zack stares at me for a long minute. Then he seems to decide that I'm okay, and drops the subject.

"So, where to next?" he asks playfully. I sigh. I'm really not in the mood for his jokes and games, but maybe he'll be able to lighten the atmosphere some.

"Hell," I reply wryly. "Where else?"

His mouth twists in a grin. "Hey, Cloud, we are _so_ going to Hell."

"Ha… ha… ha."

"Aww… Don't be like that! You know it was a good joke!"

I give him a deadpan look, even though I'm trying not to smile. It's been like this since I first discovered him here. I've just been so happy that he's alive, in a sense, that I haven't really been able to get annoyed at him. He knows it, too, which is why he's always pushing me, trying to see how much I'll let him get away with.

Pity me. Please.

* * *

It's when we stop for the night that my torment begins. Oh, no, not any torment of a physical nature. No, this is purely mental even though it sometimes seems to carry over to my body in illusory pains and other sensations that make me shiver with revulsion. Zack has decided to spend the night outside of my head, thankfully, so he can't sense what's on my mind.

After what Kefka said earlier, memories started to flood into my thoughts. Memories of guards who had been too long without a woman, who would take what they wanted from a defenseless, Mako-poisoned prisoner-slash-experiment without a second's hesitation. I started to remember snippets of my times in Hojo's labs, times when I was out of the tank and pressed, face-down, to a lab table with my backside hanging off and a strong arm pinning me down by the back of my neck. I was always too weak to do anything then, doped up on Mako and JENOVA cells and drugs as I was.

Needless to say, the guards got what they wanted out of me, regardless of the fact that I didn't want any of it.

Unfortunately for me, the memories haven't stopped coming, yet, and I lie on my blanket, my spare outfit wadded up under my head as a makeshift pillow, my eyes open and my body and mind exhausted. Sleep continues to elude me.

A phantom runs its cold hands down my spine to cup my backside, and I shudder in revulsion, turning on my side to face away from the campfire, where Zidane is standing watch.

Hm… I still haven't told him that I stole his blanket. I wonder if he'll ever even notice.

…Mm, maybe not.

Those amusing thoughts come to an end all too soon, and it's not long at all before I'm engulfed in horrors again. Times like these are when I usually think about Tifa and the kids and what all I've got waiting for me back at home, but this time, it's not working. The mortifying memories are blotting out everything else in their wake, so that I can focus on them and them only. I don't like the fact that I was used, raped by those men. I hate it. Despise it. I loathe how filthy it makes me feel inside and out, how tarnished my soul seems to be, how weak I was and still am.

Zack said Hojo lied. But I know that Zack is either ignorant or lying, himself. Neither option is one that I like or prefer.

"…Cloud? You still awake?" I briefly close my eyes and then roll back over to face Zidane, who asked the question. I'm grateful for the distraction.

"Yeah," I tell him softly. "What's up?"

Zidane shifts his position so that he's crouching next to me, and I sit up so that I can more easily look him in the eye. He looks a little nervous, and I wonder why before I see the slight glaze to his eyes that indicates that his thoughts are miles away.

"Well," he begins quietly. "You're engaged, right?"

Blink, blink. Where's this coming from?

"…Yeah…" I raise an eyebrow at him. "Why do you ask?"

Zidane twists his hands together and looks at me anxiously. It takes a second before I realize that he's about to ask for advice.

"How do you know when you're ready for that step?"

I blink again. Then I shrug and look down to study my hands where they're resting in my lap.

How to word this…

"Zidane," I begin, and then pause, gathering my thoughts again. "Zidane, there is no one way to know for certain whether you're ready to take that step or not." I stop again, wondering what to tell him. His eyes are riveted upon my face, and I can tell that he's absorbing every word I say.

"When I proposed to Tifa," I continue, finding words at last. "She was six months pregnant and our baby had just kicked for the first time. I couldn't talk, I was still recovering from being a lab rat, and I had Mako withdrawal syndrome that was getting worse by the day, so I couldn't work, either, except for running the bar and helping out around the house. But we already had two kids and a relatively steady business, not to mention the fact that we were going to have a baby. When I felt our daughter kick for the first time, everything just kind of clicked, and I proposed. It just felt… _right,_ I suppose."

Zidane nods. "So, if it feels right, I should just propose to her?"

I smile thinly, feeling slightly awkward.

"I think you should take it slow, Zidane," I tell him. "How long have you known this girl?"

"One year, four months, and three days."

I can feel my eyebrows climbing my forehead. I'm not even trying to raise them.

I clear my throat, trying to think of how to word this. "I'm sure you're old enough to ask your girl, but if I were you, I'd wait a year or two longer before you ask her. If you find yourself still in love with her, and she's still in love with you after a year or so, then it's probably a good indication that you'll be a good match. But you're still young. You might find someone else who you love just as well or more, or you might fall out of love with your girl. If you're married and that happens, then all kinds of nasty things can… crop up."

"Like political vultures?"

"For one, yes."

Zidane nods, and his smile shows his gratitude. "Thanks for the advice, Cloud. I'll definitely keep it in mind!"

I hum. "And if you ever need any more advice, you know how to get in contact with me."

Zidane grins and holds up his Crystal. "Right!"

I nod to him, and then watch as he gets up and goes back to his post by the fire, tail swaying lazily behind him. Then I shake my head with a small smile and lay back down.

Sleep comes quickly, this time.

* * *

By the time we finally arrive at Chaos' lair, everyone in our group has defeated their worst enemy. Except for Lightning, for some reason. She claims to not even know the guy she fought- some poor soul named Gabranth- but she still defeated him, regardless. Unsurprisingly, she didn't kill him. He just teleported away, and we haven't seen him since. The same thing happened with Jecht, Tidus' father, and with Golbez, Cecil's brother. I don't know why, so don't ask me.

'_It's because they couldn't bring themselves to kill them,'_ Zack comments from the back of my mind. _'Just like you couldn't bring yourself to kill Sephiroth.'_

I frown.

You _know_ why I didn't kill Sephiroth, Zack. JENOVA was using him as an energy source while she waltzed around in a simulation of his body and committed evil.

'_I know, I know,'_ he sighs. _'I'm just drawing a parallel here. Cecil didn't kill Golbez because Golbez is his brother. Lightning didn't kill Gabranth because he was there against his will. Tidus didn't kill Jecht for both those reasons… and probably just to spite his father, knowing how they function.'_

I find that I have to smile briefly at that. Then I kneel on the cracked magma of the ground and set Sephiroth down on the stairs of the platform where Chaos is waiting. I look seriously into his Mako-green eyes and then I hand him my three offensive Materia. His eyes widen.

"Cloud, no!" he protests, shoving my hand back at me. "I can't take these, you'll need them!"

I shake my head. "No, I won't," I tell him, and make him take them, closing his hands over the orbs. "My own skills are enough, plus I have Fenrir, Zack, and the others to back me up." I pause. "Hold onto these for me, just in case he decides to come after you. Okay?"

Sephiroth looks positively terrified, though he shows no fear of Chaos' wrath. No, his eyes are fixed on mine even while they're watering like Sephiroth would never allow if he was the same man he was before his rebirth. As it is, I have a difficult time discerning what it is he's scared of, until he throws his arms around my neck and holds me tightly, burying his face in my shoulder. I'm surprised for a second, and then I return the embrace, gently stroking his hair a couple of times.

"Cloud," he murmurs. "…Dad… Don't get dead."

I smile slightly.

"I won't, Seph," I assure him. It's a promise I fully intend to keep. After these words, I squeeze him gently, and then let go, turning and drawing the Buster Sword as I follow the others up onto the platform. A ring of fire succeeds me, penning us into the small space. We won't be able to get out until we defeat him, it seems.

I exchange a glance with Squall where he stands beside me to my left, then to Aren, Firion, Cecil, and the Onion Knight. I glance at Lightning, to my right, and past her to Terra and Zidane. Further still stand Tidus and Bartz. I'm standing smack-dab in the middle of all of them, directly in front of Chaos, right in his line of fire. When he decides to attack, he'll probably go after me first, simply for convenience's sake.

Shit.

'_Cloud, let me out,'_ Zack tells me. I can tell that if he wasn't incorporeal, he'd be squirming like a puppy and fingering the hilt of his energy sword. _'Let me help.'_

I nod silently, and a second later, Zack materializes with a burst of Lifestream energy at my left shoulder. A quick glance is exchanged between us, and he nods with determination, drawing his energy sword and holding it loosely in his left hand away from me, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. I myself am holding the Buster Sword in my right hand as I turn back to Chaos.

He studies us all for a second, and then he heaves himself to his feet.

"At the end of the dream," he murmurs, rising into the air. Red energy gathers in all four of his palms. "Even chaos tears itself apart!"

His last word is punctuated as he releases the energy in a massive explosion that rocks the area. I'm briefly worried for Sephiroth, but I pull my head back into the game when I realize that Chaos is readying an attack.

"Let us mark the end of this eternal conflict!" he hisses. Then he strikes, backflipping and sending a wave of fire hurtling straight at me. I feel my eyes widen as I dive to the side, the rest of them scattering, as well. I see Zack dash off toward Chaos' right side, Squall and Aren at his heels. Terra and Onion Knight hurl spells at the demon where they're currently standing to my right, and Cecil has his moon-rays out and is bombarding him with pulsing attacks.

I grind my teeth in determination and get my feet from where I've landed, and Firion and Tidus join me as I head up a full frontal attack, the Buster Sword held out in front of me. I don't get very far before a flare attack knocks me back again, scorching my arms and chest and melting my sweater into my skin. My landing is harsh, but I roll with it and am back in the fray within seconds, this time sending a Blade Beam screaming in towards Chaos as soon as Tidus and Firion get knocked clear. Chaos blocks, sending both my attack and Terra and Onion Knight's magic barrage dissipating into the air. However, in that split second that he's distracted, three different blades pierce his hide.

First blood goes to Zack, Aren, and Squall.

They soon dive away, Zack's energy blade vanishing as he gets free and summons another once he's landed. A second later, I hear a crash, and a series of circles, diamonds, and arcane symbols (all a rosy pink) fills the air, along with a storm of flower petals.

"Zantetsuken!" It's Lightning's voice that I'm hearing. A second later, a familiar Summon comes tearing into the fray, his iron sword flashing in the firelight as he hacks away at Chaos.

However, despite Odin's formidable power and Sleipnir's speed, Chaos is no pushover. He manages to block many of Odin's strikes and dodges Sleipnir's pounding hooves. Gunshots from Lightning's corner of the platform signify her attempts to put a few bullets into him. All she manages to accomplish is distracting Chaos long enough that Odin manages to stab the demon through the shoulder before vanishing. Huh. So much for that.

Not that I'm one to talk.

I pull my head back into the game and push myself to my feet, staggering slightly as the burn on my chest gets pulled. It only takes a second for me to activate my Restore Materia and cast a Cura on it, leaving the skin raw but halfway undamaged and detaching my sweater from it once again. Gritting my teeth, I take a couple steps forward, and then charge Chaos again, once more acting as the designated decoy.

After all, I am physically the strongest out of all of my group. It's high time I put that strength and endurance to good use.

Zack seems to pick up on my plan, because he appears at my side mid-leap, coming in from Chaos' left. We bring our swords down on the demon at the same time, knowing that our attacks probably won't have any effect but that the others might be able to get some hits in if we distract him long enough.

Sure enough, Lightning hits him with… well… a lightning spell- honestly, no pun intended- and Terra and Onion Knight blaze in with their own blades out, slashing a couple deep gashes along Chaos' back, nearly severing one of his wings. They pump their spells into the open wounds, ice and fire and holy magics that damage the demon as much as his flames have been damaging the rest of us.

Chaos howls in agony, and a shockwave sends me and Zack flying back to land, skidding, on the cracked, magma-hot ground. I come to a stop just before the tips of my hair land in the fire ringing the platform. Zack just flips to his feet and then comes over to me in time to block another flare that would've burnt me half to a crisp. As it is, Zack pumps more energy into his sword so that the blade widens into a shield, and the flames skim off of it to either side. The barrage stems a second later, and when Zack and I both get to our feet again, I can see that Chaos seems to have gotten a second wind, as he's currently throwing blaze after blaze at Bartz, Zidane, and Aren where they're trying- and failing- to flank him.

I wait until Chaos' latest onslaught has subsided to summon Fenrir, who bursts from the ground beneath a now-earthbound Chaos' feet and latches onto the base of the demon's tail, snarling, teeth tearing, ripping, until finally the whole tail detaches in a shower of acid-green blood. Fenrir howls in victory, which soon turns into a yowl of pain as the blood splatters across my lupine friend's face, burning him. It's then that I call him back into his Materia to recover, since I'm running low on magic energy, myself.

Chaos is enraged, by this time, but with so many skilled warriors pressing their attacks, all he can really do is spin around and try to deflect them with his flames even while gashes are opened across his body, burns charring his hide, arrows thunking into his legs and arms and chest. I can't blame him for being humiliated, but then again, the odds are definitely _not_ in his favor. After all, it's eleven on one, here. Not good odds by any stretch of the word… not good for him, that is. It's spectacular for us, of course.

Oh, yeah. Go us.

For some reason, the rest of the group is gravitating toward me. I think Chaos might be pushing us together somehow, probably to get in a big attack that'll wipe us all out in one fell swoop. I don't want that to happen, obviously, so I do the only thing I have left to me to do. I hurl a Meteorain at him, and then blast him with a Braver attack that all but cuts off his arm when he moves to block. Unfortunately, this also leaves me wide open in the wake of the attack, which he quickly capitalizes on.

A line of agony rips me open from groin to chin, and I feel another blaze flay my being from shoulder to shoulder. I can't see through the pain, and I can't feel my fingers. I only barely sense it when a wave of fire explodes all across my front, sending me crashing backwards toward the dangerous wall that surrounds our battle.

Huh. Funny, isn't it? The most powerful person in our group is the first to fall. How… _fitting_.

Sorry, Sephiroth. I don't think I'll be able to keep my promise…

Something arrests my backward movement as coldness overtakes my limbs; something metallic and bitter wells in my mouth. I cough it out, since I can't breathe around it, gazing dimly up into the face of a man, one for whom I've carried guilt and legacy for over four years.

Rinoa… I'm so sorry I won't be there to see you grow up. I'm sorry I'm going to miss all your big firsts, sorry I won't be there to scare away potential boyfriends, sorry I'm not going to give you away at your wedding… however far off that might be…

Tifa. I'm sorry I won't be there to help you raise our kids, that I won't have the chance to grow old with you, share your joys and sorrows and frustrations. I'm sorry I'm going to miss the laughter and the pain, the hurt and the healing, the good times and the bad. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I love you more often, and I'm sorry I never got to marry you like I promised I would. I'm sorry I'm breaking all of the promises I've made to you over the years. I'm sorry for wasting all those years with my stupidity.

Aerith, Sephiroth, I'm sorry I won't be able to be the father you should have had. Zackary… I'm sorry I failed you, too. And your mom. I promised that I'd take care of you, but it looks like Tifa's gonna be going it alone yet again.

Denzel, Marlene. I'm sorry I'm leaving you again when I know that you look up to me. Last time, I left because not only was I looking for a way to cure the Geostigma and save Denzel, but I was dying, too. This time, I've been dragged into a conflict that doesn't have much of anything to do with our own world, and I've been killed as a result. I'm sorry I'm failing you again.

And AVALANCHE, too… You all probably won't understand, but if this is the way it's going to end, just know that I never regretted meeting any of you. Not really, at least.

I hope the others can get through this battle on their own…

Oh. It looks like they can. Aren just shoved his sword up through Chaos' chin. I can see the other end of the blade sticking out the top of the demon's head.

Funny, how everything's blurry, now. My eyesight's supposed to be the best out of all of ours, because of the Mako enhancements, but I can't really seem to focus my gaze. It really sucks.

I'm just glad I was able to help them defeat him once and for all.

More coppery stuff chokes me and I find myself coughing as my sight dims even further. The man who caught me is shouting something, but everything's muffled and I can't make out his words. My face feels hot, my breath is short, and my head feels light. I'm dying again. I know I am, just like I died that day on the rooftop after defeating Kadaj, after Yazoo shot me through the heart and he and Loz detonated their Materia. Funny, how I feel so much regret now that I can't remember feeling back then.

Then again, back then I didn't have as much to live for as I do now. But it seems that, no matter how much I want to live, how badly I want to see my family again, I'm going to be denied even that simple pleasure.

My vision's almost completely gone. I'm numb, by now, and I don't even have the energy left to choke the bitterness out of my throat. All I know, in some detached portion of my mind, is that the face above me has something clear running down its cheeks, and that its violet eyes are more anguished than I'd ever wanted to see.

"_Cosmos… Now I know what you left behind."_

Another face- _green eyes framed by silver hair twisted in anguishguilt__**sorrow**__-_ appears in what's left of my vision. A pyrefly dances among the blackness edging the picture.

Then everything fades and I'm left cold and empty in the depths of my mind.

* * *

_For a long second after the Warrior of Light dealt the finishing blow to Chaos, everything was still and silent but for the roar of the fire and the erupting lava. Chaos' lifeless body collapsed bonelessly to the ground, eyes wide and blank and staring, and the Warriors of Cosmos were overjoyed because it meant that they could finally go home, that their battles were finally over, that they could see their loved ones again. But an anguished cry disturbed that moment, and all there whirled to face the source of the howl, a lump huddled on the ground next to what was left of Chaos' throne. The Buster Sword was embedded in the back of the throne, sticking straight out where Chaos' head would have been had he been sitting there._

_The irony of it was not lost on any of them._

_Moving almost as one, the group walked over to surround the lump on the ground, finding, as they approached, that it was actually Zack, kneeling with his back to them. He was holding something- _someone_- in his arms, rocking back and forth slightly. The Warriors of Cosmos glanced among each other, finding everyone but Cloud accounted for, if not more than a little battered and wounded._

_Aren was the first to reach them, and once he caught sight of Cloud's mangled body, he gasped and recoiled, backing up a step as a low, keening moan tore itself from his throat. The rest of them had varying reactions of a similar nature, some of mournful realization, others of outright denial._

_Cloud was dying. That much was obvious. He had been all but gutted, slashed open from groin to chin and then from shoulder to shoulder so that the two long gashes formed the shape of a cross upon his body. Burns covered his torso and arms. He was gasping weakly for breath, blood staining his chin crimson and fountaining out of his throat whenever he coughed. His eyes, normally so bright that they glowed with a light of their own, were glazed and dim with encroaching death._

_The strange thing was, he seemed to have accepted his fate, though there was regret in his pained expression._

_The sound of flames died down, and the Warriors of Cosmos glanced around to find that the ring of flames that had surrounded the battleground had vanished. As soon as it was safe, Sephiroth came running over to them with a jubilant shout, ignorant of his adoptive father's fate._

_Cloud arched faintly, mouth opening and closing, struggling weakly as he futilely tried to draw breath, to hold on. But they all knew that his wounds were beyond any of them._

_So it was that Sephiroth's joy turned to the deepest anguish, his features crumpling into sorrow a mere second after he laid eyes on Cloud's broken form. He whispered his surrogate father's name once, and then bolted to his side, catlike Mako eyes roving over the older man's form as he sought some way to save him._

_Cloud's next breath was a death rattle. He released that one, then drew another and released that one, too. He opened his mouth... closed it…_

…_and then he ceased to draw breath altogether._

_For a moment, there was complete and total silence upon the platform, all of them standing or kneeling in numb shock. For so long, they had all worked together as a unit. They had gotten to know each other as friends, as allies, as people they could depend on to always be there, to always protect them, to always win, to always be alive at the end of the fight. Cloud, in a way, had been a source of strength for all of them, with his quiet determination and his steadfast goals, as well as his immense physical strength. His rock-steady nature had become a pillar of constancy for the rest of them, despite his occasional pitfalls and bursts of impulsiveness at times._

_The suddenness with which that pillar had been removed jolted and shocked them all._

"Cosmos… Now I know what you left behind."

_The words were spoken to the wind, the voice of their enemy falling on otherwise deaf ears. None of them really noticed it when they began to disappear one by one, until finally, Zack vanished in a burst of Lifestream particles, and Sephiroth, clutching his father's quickly cooling body, grabbed the White Materia out of Cloud's pocket, holding it tightly while both of them disappeared._

_Soon the battlefield was left empty but for the corpse of a demon._

"Here ends the war of the gods. Destiny's hand cannot be stayed."

_The long fight finally over, the place was quick to demolish itself._

"Begone, mortals…"

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own nothing. O.o_

_Sorry for the long wait. At first it was because of finals and end-of-the-year projects for school, and then it was because I had a massive-ass writer's block. Thankfully, that's all behind me, now, especially since I've gotten past the big Chaos battle._

_Speaking of which, I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, and for the shortness of the Chaos battle sequence. The game being how it is, you only get to see one character battle Chaos at a time, which makes it difficult for me to write a battle sequence with him versus the Warriors of Cosmos. That was one of the biggest challenges for this chapter. Cloud's death was totally unexpected, even for me... but this isn't the last of Cloud. No, he's a persistent little bugger, and he keeps threatening me with an uneven haircut if I don't write in a better ending for this story. :)_

_Thankfully, I'm in total agreement with him, there. Next chapter comes the scene that I've had in mind since chapter fourteen or so. And then the aftermath. MWA HA HA HA HA!_

_Ahem._

_Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! **Ayame Harushino**, **CleverPhoenix**, **Steph**, and **Calenlass Greenleaf1**, you guys are the awesomest of the awesome! Many hugs to you all, and I hope that my impromptu hiatus hasn't made any of you lose interest in **Cast Me Gently Into Morning**. The next chapter SHOULD be on time, I hope. (looks thoughtful) And to Calenlass: Yes, we all need to take hammers to Hojo. Totally. And yes to Steph, too: Kefka is a sick son of a bitch. He got his dues, though. Terra made sure of that. ;)_

_Next chapter should be posted 6-10-10._

_-**P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_


	19. Farewell

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

__

**Chapter 19: Farewell.**

* * *

"_Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome."  
__-Isaac Asimov_

* * *

There's nothing. Nothing but bright, white light, as far as the eye can see. But it's a peaceful sort of nothing, and I feel warm and safe like I haven't felt since the last time I fell asleep with Tifa on the sofa after she was finished nursing Rinoa.

I honestly don't think I want to leave.

Suddenly I feel a presence. I don't know how I know that someone's there, but I can sense them even though I can't see them. I'm alone aside from this presence, naked and vulnerable… but for some reason, I don't feel afraid. No, this entity seems to be the source of the safe feeling that I've been enjoying for… how long has it been? How long have I been here?

…For that matter, where am I? And why am I here?

I seem to hear a voice, although nobody is here and nobody is speaking. The voice doesn't use words that I can understand, but somehow I know exactly what it's saying.

_You are dead. This is the way to Heaven._

…Oh. Is that why?

I guess that that makes sense.

I sigh and close my eyes, relaxing, preparing to meld back into the whiteness again. But that presence nudges me awake again, even as I feel a wave of affection radiate off of it toward me.

_Awake, brave child._

Who are you?

I can't decipher its emotions, this time, though I know that it doesn't feel negative or threatening. It's still warm, safe, and I just want to stay here forever, even if it means that I'll live in a state of ignorance. Whoever said that "ignorance is bliss" was telling the truth.

I think I really am in Heaven, though I don't know how I got here. With all the sins I've committed, I thought I'd be in hell, instead.

_You believed in Me. That is why you are here._

Oh. Does that mean you're God?

I relax into the whiteness as warmth engulfs me. I think I've finally found true peace. And I don't think I'd mind staying here for the rest of eternity, if the stories that my mother read me are true at all.

_It is not your time, child._

Okay…

…wait, what?

Why do I need to go back that place where I was before? There were false gods there, people who fancied themselves omnipotent and caused havoc because of it, and then I had to clean up their messes for them. Why can't I just stay here, where there's no more pain, no more sorrow, and no more people who try to hurt me and my family?

…Wait…

My family… They're still back there, back in that hellish place that's so unlike this one. That place of chaos, of pain and torment, that place where nothing is right. I… I need to protect them. Now that I know what Heaven feels like, I need to try to keep them safe until God calls them to Him.

I feel another wave of warmth wash over me. I feel loved and protected in that moment, and in that moment, I know that I've been given the strength to live in that hellish place again, because I know that after my time there is done, I'll be brought back here, to this blessed place.

Maybe this is a childish sort of understanding, but it's all I can muster at the moment. Being in this place… with this omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent being who seems to be the source of all the goodness, kindness, and love in the universe… it's awe-inspiring, and I know that I'll never be the same.

But that's a good thing, in this case.

The next thing I know, another wave of warm love has swept me into equally warm darkness, and I feel peace for another long moment before the scent of flowers touches my nose.

Wait. Flowers?

The caress of a petal runs across my arm, and I can feel grass prickling my skin from below me. There's solid ground beneath my back and head. I can hear birds chirping in the distance, can hear the wind rustling through trees and flowers, can hear the snap of a cape in the breeze, and the murmurs of a woman's voice.

I can hear a child's sobbing.

Funny thing is, it sounds like a _he,_ and _he_ sounds like _Sephiroth._

Where in hell _are_ we?

I frown at the thought, and then open my eyes to find an answer to my question. The light is blinding, at first, but then my eyes adjust and I find myself staring up at the clearest, bluest sky I've ever seen. I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, clean air. It's cleaner than anything I've ever smelled, even cleaner than the air of the Nibel mountains or the cold atmosphere of Icicle Inn and Modeoheim. There's no pollution, no Mako, nothing but the scent of wildflowers and recently-fallen rain. I can taste the perfume of the flowers on my tongue. It's a sweet sort of thing.

I flex my hands, feeling soil under my fingertips where my gloves don't cover my skin. It's damp and moist and thick, just like the soil in Aerith's garden in her church in Sector Five. Rich soil is good for plants- that much I remember.

Blink. For some reason, I can't feel any pain, which is saying something. The last thing I remember before my sojourn in Heaven is burning agony and then frigid numbness that clung to my very bones. Now, I can't feel any of that, just the warm, healthy feeling of my body in its prime.

It's then that I realize that the barriers Cosmos made to seal my Mako away are gone. The Mako is still inside me, for sure, but it doesn't hurt. There's no pain, no shaking, none of the withdrawal symptoms that I experienced before I came to Cosmos' world. Come to think of it, I feel better than I ever have before. There aren't even any of the aches in my muscles that come from average, daily exertion.

Maybe God fixed my Mako problem, then? I wouldn't put it past Him. Mom always used to read me stories of His time on Earth, that far-away planet that our ancestors came from. She had a book that was passed down our family line from our ancestors, called the "Bible," and it said that He healed the sick and injured with a word, a touch, and asked nothing in return but belief in Him and in His Son.

Maybe that's what He did to me.

The notion stuns me a little, and I sit up in a daze, staring out over rolling hills covered in wildflowers. A little ways to my right is a copse of trees, the beginnings of a forest, and somewhere off in the distance is a stone castle the likes of which mom used to tell me about in bedtime stories. I never thought I'd see one with my own eyes.

…

There's someone here. I can hear their heartbeats. But I'm feeling too peaceful right now to really care.

It's then that I realize something.

"It's finally over," I whisper to myself, placing my right hand over my heart. It beats steadily in my breast, and I notice that my body has been healed of the wounds that killed me. "All the pain, all the fear, all the guilt, and all the tainted hate and self-disgust… it's all gone."

All I can feel now is peace.

It's a feeling that not even the torture I suffered at Hojo's hands can taint with its horror. That all seems far away right now. I feel untouchable.

For the first time in a very long time, I feel a sincere, genuinely happy smile curve my mouth, and I look up at the sky. As I close my eyes, I realize that this is the most serene I've ever felt.

I'll live and take care of my family, and I'll never forget all You've done for me, God. Thank you. Thank you more than I can ever say with words.

And somehow, I know He's listening, even though He doesn't answer. I know He's watching over me.

Something brushes against my shoulder, but I ignore it for a moment, savoring the peace within me for a few heartbeats before I open my eyes again and look over to the person connected to the hand that just landed on my shoulder.

It's Sephiroth. His catlike Mako eyes are wide as saucers, and he doesn't seem to be breathing. Tears are streaming down his cheeks. It's then that I realize that he saw me die, and that he still doesn't seem to realize that I'm okay, that I've been healed.

I reach out and pull him into my arms, tucking his head under my chin and smoothing down his hair with one hand. Everything's quiet as I hold my son tight, realizing how close I came to losing him. But even that doesn't rattle me out of the good mood I'm in, because I know, now, that I can face anything, that I can overcome any trial sent my way.

His tiny hands fist in my shirt, and I feel his shoulders tremble as I pull him onto my lap and let him cry. Sephiroth's tears are warm when they fall onto my collarbone, and quickly cool, but I don't mind in the least.

"It's okay, Sephiroth," I whisper to him. "I'm okay. I'm alive."

He only sobs harder. I know what he's feeling, though, so I just hold him and let him cry until he has nothing left to cry. Then I tune into our surroundings and find that we've been surrounded. No pun intended.

My friends and companions have circled my son and me, and they're all looking at us with wonder and gladness. I smile at them, and nod.

"I'm back," I murmur. Grins break out on several faces, and I think I can see Terra crying, though she's holding the tears back as best she can.

I briefly wonder if I shouldn't change my clothes- after all, the attack that killed me practically shredded the ones I was wearing. Then I realize that my modified SOLDIER 1st Class uniform has been repaired, and is untarnished save for the old grass stains that I acquired during my many travels. It's safe to wear.

God thinks of everything, doesn't He? I guess that's why He's called omniscient.

I feel Sephiroth move, and a second later, I'm looking down into his big, innocent eyes. I smile, and I know that he can sense the peace that I've been given, because he smiles tentatively back. I set him down, and get to my feet, feeling every muscle move with a grace and ease and strength I've never known before. It feels so _good._

I look at my companions, and we all smile around at each other, rejoicing in being alive, at the fact that our battles are done, that we can have peace, now. We can get on with our lives. Tidus is standing next to a stream. Zidane is sitting on a low branch of a tree, and Lightning is perched on a boulder not far away. Firion is standing in a patch of wild roses and Cecil is standing on a jagged slab of rock.

At my feet are a spread of lilies like the ones that grow in Aerith's church and in the garden that Tifa planted out behind the bar a couple months ago.

Feathers and flower petals blow towards us on a gusting breeze, and we gaze around at the place we're in, feeling awe and relief spread over us.

Aren is the one who finally breaks the silence.

"The battle has come to an end," he murmurs. I can sense his wonder.

But it's not long before another emotion overtakes us all as Lightning gasps and we all turn to see her glowing slightly, a light blue color that's almost silver. She's gazing at her Crystal, which she has clutched in her hand. After a second, she looks up at the rest of us, and a small smile forms on her lips.

"I think…" She pauses. "I think it's time to continue my journey. Goodbye, everyone, and I really do hope I'll see you again someday."

Lightning sheathes Blaze Edge and turns to walk away. For a long moment, I watch as she's silhouetted against the sun, pausing slightly.

"By the way," she says, turning to look at us over her shoulder. Her sea-green eyes meet mine. "My real name… it's Claire."

Then she's gone before any of us can react.

I smile slightly. _Claire_, huh? Zack once told me that the Gongagan word for "lightning" is "éclair." Funny.

I hope I can see her again, even just to tease her a little about her choice in names.

Tidus is the next to start glowing, the same sapphire blue as his eyes and his Crystal. He holds his Crystal close and stares into it with a soft smile on his face. He seems almost sad.

"Gotta go, huh…" He stares at it for a second longer before he whips around to face the rest of us from where he'd been facing the lake. He grins broadly at us.

"Don't worry," he says with cheerful certainty, and gestures calmly in a vague direction. "The Crystal knows the rest of the way. Besides-" He makes a fist and pushes his thumb into his chest, his grin widening. "-I'm always right here."

I nod at him, smiling my own small smile.

Be careful, Tidus. I hope you live a long and happy life, wherever you're returning to. I'll never forget you, my friend, or any of our other companions.

He gives us a thumbs-up sign, silently telling us that everything will be okay. Then he turns and takes a running leap off of a boulder at the water's edge, his form knifing toward the lake in a perfect dive.

He vanishes before he hits the water.

"We're not vanishing." Zidane's voice reaches my ears as he muses to himself. I look over at him to see him holding his orange Crystal up to the light, his body beginning to glow yellow-orange. "We're returning to where we're supposed to be."

He looks up through the canopy to the sky above. Then, without warning, he flips off of his branch, using his tail to swing himself up into the air, spinning gracefully. He doesn't come back down, and I know he's gone home.

Good luck, Zidane. I hope that God blesses your relationship with your princess.

More feathers float toward us on the wind. I see Squall catch one and stare at it, and I wonder briefly what he's thinking about.

He glows blue, and I watch his normally flinty gaze soften.

"Perhaps we can go on a mission together again sometime," he says, and then he's gone.

It's then that I notice that the Buster Sword is lying in the grass next to where I'm standing. I bend down and wrap my hand around the hilt, holding it easily as I lift it up and prop it on my shoulder.

Much though I would like to see everyone again, I don't think I want to go on another mission like this one. Too much excitement.

Sephiroth's hand slips into my empty left palm, and I look down as a tingling sensation fills me to find that he's holding the White Materia between our clasped fingers. I smile down at him, and then glance back at the others over my shoulder, smiling at them even though my bangs get in the way.

"Not interested," I murmur in response to Squall's statement, and I know that they know what I'm referring to. I nod to them, and then I face forward and take the first steps towards home as the flower field fades around me into whiteness.

Somehow, I can still hear my companions' voices as I float in the void between worlds, Sephiroth's hand clasped in my own around the White Materia.

"_I think I've learned how to keep going."_ It's Terra's voice, and she sounds so grateful that I feel my heart ache. _"Thank you… and take care."_

How like Terra, to keep us all in her thoughts even as she's heading home. I'm grateful for her well-wishes, and I hope she takes care, as well.

"_When you're having the most fun, that's when time always flies."_ Bartz. He sounds somewhat regretful, but content at the same time.

Truer words have never been spoken, Bartz. I'm glad you've kept your carefree innocence through all this.

Cecil's voice is bursting with hope. _"It's mine to pass on, this strength I've gained from everyone."_

You're not the only one who gained strength from our group, Cecil. I have, too, and I thank you for sharing yours with me.

Onion Knight sounds happy, not arrogant like he usually does. _"Everyone… Thank you!"_

Thank you, too, Onion Knight. You taught me a lot.

"…_This isn't the end."_ It's Firion. _"Another dream is waiting to begin."_

I think you're right, Firion. Hold fast to your dreams, and I hope that they always stay as simple and beautiful as your wild rose.

There's a long moment of silence, and I realize that Aren, the Warrior of Light, has not left the world we departed from. That means that, for even a brief time, I saw the world of his birth, his home, his livelihood. It's a beautiful place, and I wish him happiness there.

"_May the light forever shine upon us,"_ I can hear him say. _"And thank you for giving me a name when I had none. I remember everything, now. I had no name, even before I came to Cosmos' world. Thank you for giving me one that is worth having."_

You're welcome, Aren… I'll never forget you, any of you, for as long as I live and beyond.

Then the light brightens briefly, and I take another step forward…

…through the front door of Seventh Heaven.

I hear a gasp, and then the sound of something shattering. I look toward the source of the sound, and my eyes alight on a black and white blur that's rushing toward me and Sephiroth. I barely have time to cast the Buster Sword to the side, and then Sephiroth and I have been swept into an enormous sobbing hug by my fiancée. I pull her closer to me, burying my face in her raven hair, and close my eyes as I wrap my other arm around Sephiroth, holding both of them tightly.

A few seconds pass, and I hear stomping on the stairs. Then we're tackled once, twice, three times more, and four pairs of arms grip me and Sephiroth desperately, as though they were never going to see us again. I look around at them all and find that we've been joined by Denzel, Marlene, and Zackary, who's carrying Aerith. Denzel has Rinoa in his arms, and she's staring up at me with her dark blue eyes that show me how much she's missed looking at my hair.

Funny, how most of them are crying, but I can't feel anything but joy and peace and contentment. I think God has certainly blessed me, to have such a wonderful family and a home to return to.

And it feels so, _so_ good to be back.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Final Fantasy of any type. I just own Zackary Hewley and Rinoa Strife. Eat shit, lawyers._

_Thought that was a good place to end it._

_Wow, I was almost on time, this time. Whaddya know? And I brought the Dissidia arc to a close. I hope you all liked it._

_I was thinking about how to open this chapter, and I remembered a theory that I'd come up with a long time ago (or saw somewhere else- I can't remember which) that the original inhabitants of Gaia were initially from Earth. They'd gone into space to escape our dying planet, and ended up on Gaia. They interbred with the natives and became known as the Cetra. Then JENOVA, a non-human alien virus fell from the sky in a meteorite, and shit happened._

_Then I realized, there would have had to have been some religious people among those immigrants. Christianity is a religion that most people are familiar with, and it's been around for just under two thousand years. What's to say it wouldn't last a space trip and another two thousand years or so? And then I thought, what if Cloud's ancestors were Christians? What if they had passed their doctrinal teachings on down their line, until Cloud's mom taught them to him?_

_That's how I got the content of the first part of this chapter. So that's what Cloud believes. It's a little bit of what I believe, too, if you must know. Yes, I am a Christian. And I think that __**everybody**__ believes in __**something,**__ whether it's God or something else, such as logic or science or some other worldly thing. I feel that God is more than a bit more substantial than anything else I've ever encountered. Cloud has need of something solid, something to lean on, which is why he has clung to his beliefs his whole life. He is an uncertain sort of person by nature, so he searches for certainty in things other than himself. I think it's perfectly plausible that he could latch onto God, if he was taught about Him from an early age._

_These things are part of what I think. If you don't like it, and decide to flame me for it, then I pity you, both because you can't find it in yourself to respect me and my right to creative license, and because you can't respect my beliefs for what they are. Any people who flame me will be met with pity before I feed the flames to Fenrir._

_Thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! That means you, __**CleverPhoenix**__**, **__**Ayame Harushino**__**, **__and __**Steph**__! You all rock, and I agree with you. That was a tough chapter to write, with killing Cloud off and all. If you want to see a picture that holds a semblance of what Cloud's death scene looked like, go to_

_http: / / elvenwhitemage. deviantart. com / # / d2oiu10 (remove the spaces)._

_This is a pic I actually did for the prologue of __**fairheartstrife**__'s __Splintered Dreams__, but this is where I drew the inspiration for Cloud at the end of the last chapter._

_Next chapter should be posted 6-20-10._

_-__**P**__ortrait of a __**S**__cribe_


	20. Homecoming

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

__

**Chapter 20: Homecoming.**

* * *

"_I've found that one of the greatest feelings on Earth is that of being wrapped in the embrace of the ones you love after a long separation. It's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I've also found that the greatest feeling of all is being with your loved ones and knowing that you're loved in return, by both them and by God, for there is no greater love than His."  
__-Portrait of a Scribe_

* * *

It's strange, how separation makes the heart grow fonder, isn't it? Sure seems like it. I mean, for me, it's been about five months since I saw the rest of my family. Now, I'm leaning over Rinoa's crib, watching her as she sleeps, and I can't seem to keep my eyes off of her. It feels almost like she's going to disappear at any second, even though I know that that isn't the case. But damn if I can't convince my heart that nobody's going anywhere.

A hand lands on my back, between my shoulder blades, and Tifa comes around me to my right side to lean against the crib, watching our daughter with me. She doesn't say anything, and neither do I as I reach over and take her hand in mine. For a long, long time, we just stand there, hand in hand, watching Rinoa's eyes flicker beneath their lids, watch her little chest rise and fall in time with the soft sound of her breath, watch her purse and smack her lips as she dreams deep in her slumber. It's a sight I've sorely missed, and I feel like I could just stand here forever…

…or at least, until she wakes up again.

But something is nagging at the back of my mind, a question I wanted to ask before but never got the chance to. It takes a moment for me to figure out what, exactly, the question is, but when I finally find the words, I don't even look over at Tifa.

"How long were we gone?" I ask, keeping my voice down to a whisper so that I don't wake our daughter. Tifa's quiet for a moment, her red-tinted eyes fixed on Rinoa, irises glowing with the slight amount of Mako that she's been exposed to over the years.

"About two weeks," Tifa finally answers. I hum, and silence descends upon us once again.

At last, she tugs on the hand that she's gripping, and I reluctantly follow her away from the crib, out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where Vincent's standing at the stove trying to keep Yuffie from burning the pancakes that she's making for a midnight snack. I think he actually just flipped one using his claw, come to think of it- he's got batter smeared across his golden fingertips.

I think they make a cute couple, really… when Yuffie's not pissing me off, that is.

Vincent's crimson eyes follow me as Tifa leads me over to the table and sits me down in a chair, moving over to the sink and filling a glass with water before she plunks that down in front of me and sits down opposite my position. Her slight frown is firm, and I know I'm not getting out of this one so easily.

"Where were you, Cloud?" she asks, and I can hear the accusations that she's trying to keep out of her tone.

"You mean, where was I and why did I take Sephiroth," I counter, bringing my voice up to a normal volume. "And why I didn't contact you and why I left without a word… right?"

Tifa purses her lips, but nods without a word.

That's my Tifa… though it seems as though our normal roles have been reversed all of a sudden. I'm usually the one who asks one loaded question, which she then dissects into all the other questions I threw in there but didn't say.

Huh. It's actually a little amusing.

I hum. "I guess I'll have to start from the beginning." I pause, gathering my thoughts. "Around midnight about two weeks ago, I came very close to dying from Mako withdrawal…"

* * *

"…so we parted ways and, next thing I knew, Seph and I were back here," I finish, my voice hoarse. I think this is the most I've talked in years- even counting the time when my companions in Cosmos' world asked me about my past and Zack made me answer. There's utter silence for a long moment as Yuffie, Vincent, and Tifa digest my story. Then Tifa gets up from her seat, rounds the table, and slaps me hard enough to turn my head to the side.

I wince. I guess I deserved that.

"Mako withdrawal, Cloud?" she demands, and I can hear her voice wavering. "Since when? And what's all this about you being gone for five months when I know that it's only been two weeks?"

I know she thinks I'm lying. I sigh, and turn to look up at her, feeling wearier than I have since I woke up after defeating JENOVA.

"I hid the symptoms really well, Tifa," I explain calmly. "I didn't want you and the kids to worry, but I also knew that there wasn't much I could do about it. I thought they'd fade with time, but they got worse instead. I was going to tell you if I survived that last attack, but you know what happened."

"And the time discrepancies?" she counters. There are tears in her eyes. "Why would you lie to me about that?"

I shake my head. "I'm telling the truth, Tifa. Cosmos' power froze time for our world, but when she was killed by Chaos, I guess her remaining power gradually weakened and the time seal wore off. That's all I can think of."

Tifa still doesn't look convinced. I sigh, and reach for my mental connection with Zack.

You still there?

'_Of course,'_ he quips. _'Who else would annoy the hell out of you even when commentary is unwanted?'_

Good. I was a little scared that my death would've killed you, too.

'_Give me some credit, Spike!' _He sounds slightly offended. _'I'm not a SOLDIER First Class for nothing, you know!'_

Yeah, a _dead_ SOLDIER First Class.

'_Shut up.'_ Were he manifest right now, he'd be sticking his tongue out at me. _'You have no right to talk.'_

Yeah, yeah…

I take a breath, brace myself, and summon Zack. The expected pain never comes, but he appears in a burst of Lifestream energy beside me all the same. Tifa gasps and backs away, while Yuffie screeches and hides behind Vincent, who's just put his hand on Cerberus. Death Penalty is holstered to his other thigh.

Tifa's expression is priceless when she realizes who it is.

"Yo!" Zack chirps with a jaunty wave. He's perched, catlike, on top of one of the chairs. "Long time no see!"

"You!" Yuffie's exclamation precedes her pointing at Zack. "You're that guy who hunted treasure for me!"

Zack imitates her stance, right down to the pointed finger. "You! You're that midget Wutaian kid who sent me on a bunch of bullshit missions and then kept stealing my loot!"

They glare at each other for a moment before I can't hide the twitching in my mouth any longer and bow my head, trying to stifle my snickering.

"I remember you telling me about that," I mutter when I can look at them without cracking up. "You said she was a real-"

Zack's gloved hand slaps over my mouth and nose, and I flail for a second, eyes wide, before the force he used sends me toppling over backwards with a clatter. Tifa gasps, but I can do little more than stare up at the ceiling, my eyebrow twitching.

"Zack?" My voice is a warning growl. Zack has- wisely, I might add- evacuated his seat and is now hiding behind Yuffie who's hiding behind Vincent who's hiding-without-hiding behind the other side of the table.

"Yeah?" Zack counters, his tone forcefully light. I sit up, look at him, and _glare._

"You remember what I told you about slapping your hand over my mouth?"

Zack grins, obviously remembering that conversation. "Yeah. You said something about it tasting nasty, and not wanting to know where it'd been, and that if I did it again you would puke. And you were half-conscious after being half-dead from exposure to Chaos' powers."

"I guess the part where I cut your hand off must've been in my head, then," I snap, but Zack just grins and shoves Yuffie out in front of himself.

"Meat shield," he chirps, and then he's gone, escaping out the kitchen door as Yuffie's loud protests follow him. I growl, then right my chair and slump into it, feeling strangely tired. But I'm still smirking. Bandying wits with Zack always puts me in a good mood despite what I might say.

I glance up at Tifa, who's staring out the kitchen door with a slightly stunned look on her face.

"Do you believe me now?" I ask wryly. She sits down in the chair that Zack recently vacated, and nods vaguely.

"I didn't think…" She trails off, her tone thoughtful, and I know that she's probably thinking about how she doubted me and feeling guilty about it. Truthfully, my tale was so far-fetched to her that she might still not really believe my words to be the truth of the matter. Oh, well. I guess she'll just have to be convinced the next time I see one of the others. Come to think of it, I bet she and Terra would get along pretty well… She'd probably get along well with most of them, to tell the truth.

Though I have to say, I think Squall would drive her up a wall. He and Vincent would get along just fine, though. I bet they'd have all sorts of intelligent conversations… without even saying a single word.

You thought _I_ was taciturn? Ha! Fat chance.

At any rate, I grab Tifa's hand and squeeze it gently, letting her know that I'm not mad. She smiles at me, and I nod.

At least she's not angry at me, anymore…

… I hope.

My cheek gives a throb, and I wince, massaging it gingerly with the tips of my fingers. Yep. That one's gonna bruise.

"So, Cloud!" Yuffie chirps, and I blink as she suddenly slides into the seat across from me where Tifa was sitting earlier. "Tell me more about these people you were fighting with! Were they as cool as I am?"

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud, as out of character as that may seem. For some reason, even Yuffie's antics are making me feel almost giddy. Maybe it's because I'm just so relieved to be home, with my family. Where I _belong._

The corners of my lips twitch despite my efforts, though. I have to take a drink from my glass of water before I can talk, though, and I realize that it's gone warm. How long have we been sitting here, talking? I glance at the clock.

It's almost four in the morning.

"Shit," I mutter, my eyes widening. The others blink, and then I blink, realizing what it must've sounded like to them. Then I shake my head and gesture vaguely to the clock.

"No, it's almost four," I tell them in explanation. "I just didn't realize the time, that's all." I pause, gathering my thoughts again, and then nod to myself.

"The people I traveled with are all very powerful in their own rights," I begin. "They've all been through similar things that we have- clashing with tyrants, saving the world, all that sort of thing- and they've all got their own talents and weaknesses. We all played off of each other to create a well-rounded fighting force." I pause again. "The first of my companions is a warrior named Aren. When I first met him, he didn't have a name of his own, so he went by a title, the 'Warrior of Light.' We finally got sick of calling him that, so Terra named him Aren, which, on her world, means 'Light.'"

"_You know… You need a name, whether it's your real one or not. I can't just keep calling you 'Warrior of Light' all the time. It's too big a mouthful, and it's really impersonal."_

"_Would you mind terribly if we call you something else?"_

"_I… I guess so."_

"_Well, then, we'll think of a name to call you. How about Aren?"_

"_I... It sounds nice."_

"_Great!"_

"_One question."_

"_What's it mean?"_

"_I think it means 'light.' I thought it was fitting."_

"_You have my gratitude, Terra, for giving me a name. I'll be Aren henceforth."_

"He's a knight, where he comes from. Very noble, always knew right from wrong even though he couldn't remember a single thing about himself after he was brought to Cosmos' world. Fights with a sword and a shield. You know, like in fairytales."

"Really?" Yuffie asks skeptically. I think she's been reading Marlene fairytales recently. She doesn't seem too impressed.

"Yeah," I reply, nodding. "Only cooler. The next of my companions is a man named Firion."

"_Cloud, are you okay?"_

"_Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Nervous as hell about this drop, but I'm totally fucking fine."_

"_I've been meaning to ask you. What's that word mean?"_

"_Which word?"_

"_'Fucking.'"_

"_It's a very vulgar term for the act of sexual intercourse."_

"_Th-Then why do you use it out of context like that?"_

"_It's the mother of all cuss words. Usually, you use it if you want to put huge emphasis on something along with a great deal of shock value. Sometimes, it's used when somebody's being sarcastic. Obviously, you don't usually want to use it in civil conversation, and especially not in mixed company. Do you understand?"_

"Kind of naïve, but he's got a heart of gold. Weapons master, uses all kinds of things to fight with- daggers, a longsword, an axe, a bow, and magic. He was always looking out for the rest of us. His dream is to cover the world in wild roses."

Tifa smiles at me. "A simple dream."

I return the smile with one of my own. "A simple dream for a simple man. It's all he really wishes for." I pause. "Third is Onion Knight."

"_So you brought everyone up here in the wind and the snow, and barely armed, too. Do you have any idea how reckless that was?"_

"_We knew the risks we were taking, Cloud. We're competent enough to know what's dangerous and what's not."_

I roll my eyes, and Yuffie catches it, as does Vincent. He doesn't say anything, obviously. I just see the edge of one of his eyebrows meet the edge of his bandana.

"Well?" Yuffie demands. I sigh.

"I don't know his real name," I deadpan. "He never told us, nothing but the fact that 'Onion Knight' is, obviously, just a title." I pause again, though. "But he's a good kid. Not much older than Denzel, I think, but he's smart. Like, genius-smart. Fights with a rapier and magic. Sometimes he seems arrogant, though, or headstrong. I didn't actually have that much interaction with him. Most of the time we were there, he was off with Terra and I was with Firion, Tidus, and Cecil. Speaking of whom, Cecil Harvey is next on my list."

"_Thanks."_

"_Are you okay, Cloud?"_

"_I'm... going... to __kill... __that fucktard."_

"_I don't think that would be a wise thing to do, Cloud."_

"_I'm going to __kill__ that stupid, idiotic, sonuvabitch of a fucktard." _

"_You're welcome to break his nose, Cloud, but no killing."_

"He's a nice guy," I begin. "Got a wife at home and an older brother who once tried to kill him. His brother actually helped us out against Chaos, even though he was technically an enemy. Cecil's a dark knight, but he can fight as a paladin if he's in the air. Hmm…" I pause to take another drink of water, and absently note that it's about four-thirty. "Next is Bartz Klauser."

"_When you're having the most fun, that's when time always flies."_

"He's laid-back, outgoing, and loves to mimic other people," I state flatly. "He's pretty good pals with Zidane. Bartz doesn't really have a specific weapon that he fights with- he uses his energy to mimic the weapons and attacks of those around him." I pause thoughtfully. "He really likes my Climhazzard move, for some reason. Don't know why."

"Because he secretly has a fondness for kick-ass techniques that aren't good for much more than overkill?"

Aha. The Great Zack hath returned.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "This coming from the guy who once called in an air strike from Tseng on a half-dead Kalm Fang that probably would've died in one more hit?"

Zack pouts at me, and I know I've won this argument.

"I wanted to blow something up," he grouses. "Can you blame me?"

I roll my eyes, ignore the way Tifa's staring at Zack like he's sprouted another head, and try to get the situation back on topic.

"Next is Terra Branford," I continue, and everyone looks back at me.

"_Wow! You have a big family!"_

"_The woman is Tifa, my fiancée, and the baby in her arms is Rinoa."_

"_Are all these kids yours? Because they don't look like either of you."_

"_No way! If they were all ours, we'd have to have started when we were fourteen or fifteen."_

"She's a mage. Her father was something that they call an Esper, and her mother was human. That basically makes her the equivalent of what a love-child of Ramuh and our neighbor would be. Terra can't fully control her powers, but she's got a mind for magic and tactics. She used to be a soldier for an empire on her home world before she broke free from their mind control and revolted against them."

Tifa smiles at me. "That sounds familiar."

I nod. "Like I said, a lot of them have gone through similar situations to ours. Anyway, next is Squall Leonhart."

"_What in the hell-?"_

"_Griever. We're separating."_

"_Why? Cloud, what-?"_

"_He'll be happier with you. He's been too quiet these past few weeks, and I've never seen or heard him as pleased as when he interacted with you, Squall. He's your partner, now."_

"He's really quiet and serious, but if you can get past his cold exterior, he's a loyal friend and a great tactician. He's got a really dry sense of humor, though he doesn't usually show it. He's a mercenary from the future of our planet."

Yuffie's eyes go wide. Like, _really_ wide.

"He's a _time-traveler?"_ she shrieks, and Tifa and I both shush her hurriedly while Vincent grabs her shoulders, the three of us glancing anxiously at the staircase. Yuffie covers her mouth for a second in realization, but then she drops her hands in favor of her curiosity and continues in a hushed voice. "That is _so cool!"_

I roll my eyes, but nod. "His girlfriend is a Sorceress…" I pause, glance at Tifa, and smile slightly. "He says her name's Rinoa."

Tifa grins, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to, and I can see the amusement and gratitude in her gaze.

"Zidane Tribal is another of them," I continue, as though our exchange had never taken place.

"…_Cloud? You still awake?"_

"_Yeah. What's up?"_

"_Well… You're engaged, right?"_

"…_Yeah… Why do you ask?"_

"_How do you know when you're ready for that step?"_

Ah, Zidane… Such a bright spirit.

"Zidane is a teenager who fights with daggers like the ones Terra Jerrel used," I state, fighting back a yawn. "He's cheerful most of the time, but he's hopeless around women. Oh, and he has a tail."

"A _tail?"_ Yuffie demands. Thank God she managed to keep her voice down this time.

I look at her, my expression deadpan. "Yeah. A tail. And he can use it to grip things, too."

She continues to gape at me, and I roll my eyes.

"Tidus was the last of us until we found Lightning."

"_Son of a fucking bitch."_

"_You're displeased about our destination?"_

"_Not so much the destination as the means of transportation. I hate not being able to see the things I'm walking on."_

"_Don't worry, we'll catch you if you fall."_

"_I'm not a damsel in distress! I can walk this thing on my own."_

"_Yeah? Prove it."_

"As much as he can be a jackass sometimes," I continue wryly, musing absently over the memory, "he's generally an honest kind of guy. Doesn't like his dad much, but he's got heart."

Tifa grins, and Yuffie smirks at me.

"Aww, is wittle Cloudy-kins getting all soft on us?" she teases. I stare her down.

"I blame fatherhood for any loss of masculinity that may occur," I deadpan, completely serious. Zack falls off his chair, laughing. We stare at him incredulously for several moments while he gets himself back under control.

"I still wish I had a camera!" he gasps. I frown.

"For what?"

Uh-oh. I get the feeling I'm going to regret asking that question, especially if the smirk on his face is anything to judge by.

"Four words, Spike: Sephiroth, shower, soap, Lightning." I can feel my whole head (plus my neck and ears) heating, and I bury my face in my hands as I recall the incident he's referring to.

"_Miss Lightning, miss Lightning! Look at Cloud's hair!"_

"_Sephiroth, stop that! You don't __**do**__ that!"_

"_What's the matter?"_

"_It's a thing called modesty, Seph. Give Lightning some privacy, would you?"_

"_Sorry."_

"_Nice hairdo, Cloud."_

"Cloud?" Tifa's voice breaks through my haze of remembered mortification, and I peek out at her around my hand-shield-barrier-hiding-place-thingy. She's smiling in a confused sort of way. "What's Zack talking about?"

I sigh and drop my hands, leaning on the table and shooting a glare at Zack as he regains his seat. Then I look over at Tifa.

"It's really not as bad as it sounds," I manage to get out. "After my battle with JENOVA where I cut Sephiroth free from her, we were both filthy. You remember how the Nibelheim inn's bathrooms are set up, don't you?"

When Tifa and the others nod, I shrug.

"I went to get washed up since Seph was still sleeping, and he followed me in when he woke up. I let him shower with me so I could help him wash his hair- Stop looking at me like that, Yuffie! He couldn't reach the soap!" I glare, and she rolls her eyes, but, surprisingly, remains silent. "Anyway, I couldn't resist giving him a soap-hawk."

Tifa gasps, and then covers her mouth as she giggles, trying to keep from waking up the kids. I'm grinning, now, and I can see Vincent's lips twitching behind his cowl. Yuffie is sniggering, and Zack has his head buried in the crook of his arm, which is resting against the table. I can hear him wheezing as he tries to stop laughing so hard.

I position my hands over my head, pressing my fingertips together so that my hands form a rough triangle shape.

"Just like this," I explain. Vincent's mouth twitches a bit more, and the rest of them laugh even harder. "So he retaliates by giving me a new hairdo, too."

I look over to Tifa again, and call her name. She looks up at me, and I can see her trying to stifle her giggles.

"You remember that guy who used to hang around Sector Seven, the one with the bright red hair gathered into spikes? Head looked like somebody'd electrocuted him and then clumped his hair together like that?"

Tifa gasps, and then she claps her hands over her mouth, her cheeks going bright red from her mirth. I can see tears gathering in her eyes as she struggles to breathe through her laughter.

"He-he did that t-to you?" she stammers out after a moment. I nod.

"Yep," I reply, and then notice Yuffie and Vincent giving me blank looks. I reach up and gather my hair into a two-spiked rendition of the hairstyle Seph put me through.

"Like this, only all over," I explain. Yuffie's eyes grow wide, and her grin broadens, if that's at all possible.

When their mirth dies down a bit a few minutes later, I get on with my story.

"Anyway, Lightning was showering two stalls down from us," I continue. "So I turn to look into the mirror to see the new hairstyle that Seph gave me, and then next thing I hear is, 'Miss Lightning, Miss Lightning!' And I hear Lightning squeak and look over and find that Seph is standing right outside her stall, looking up at her from under the divider!"

Tifa gasps, mortified and amused at the same time as her whole face flushes. Yuffie's cracking up, again, and I can see Vincent's cheeks coloring slightly. Zack's just about dying all over again where he's laughing on the floor.

I nod emphatically, and gesture for effect. "He's telling her to look at my hairdo, so I tell him to leave her alone, and he asks, 'What's the matter?'"

I drop my hands, staring around at my audience with eyes widened by exasperation, as Tifa continues gasping for air and Vincent colors further and Yuffie falls out of her chair to join Zack on the floor.

"So I tell him, 'It's a little thing called modesty, Seph, now give Lightning some privacy!' And you know what she says to me?"

I toss my hands up, exasperated again.

"She says, 'Nice hairdo, Cloud.' Just like that, too!"

Tifa grabs my arm before she can fall off her chair, and the next thing I know, I've got her sitting in my lap, and we're all laughing. A minute later, there's a tugging on the belt loop of my pants, and I look down to find Sephiroth staring up at me sleepily.

"Dad?" he asks quietly. "What's all the ruckus about?"

I grin and reach down to ruffle his sleep-mussed silver hair. "Just regaling everyone with stories about our adventure."

His face lights up a bit as he wakes up further. "Oh. Did you tell them about the awesome hairdo I gave you?"

I have to laugh at that. "Yes, Seph, I just finished that story."

Then I pause, and glance at the clock. It's five in the morning. I turn to Seph.

"What're you doing up, anyway?" I ask, vaguely hearing everyone else's laughter dying down. Tifa shifts off of my lap back to her chair, but I barely notice. All my attention is on my son and the way that he's not looking me in the eye. In fact, I can see him scuffing his toe against the floor, and he's got a blanket trailing on the floor from where he's gripping it in his hands behind his back.

He mumbles something that even I, with my Mako-enhanced hearing, can't make out.

I frown.

"What?" I ask, and he looks up at me, and his eyes are big and round and reluctant and sad all at the same time.

"I dreamed about you dying again," he admits quietly. I immediately feel my mirth drain away, but I'm not in a bad mood. Just peaceful, that's all. I hum, and pat my thigh, holding still while he clambers up onto my lap. Then I wrap my arms around him, tugging his blanket around his small body as he curls into my chest, closing his eyes.

A moment or two passes, and then his breathing evens out, and his thumb makes its way into his mouth, and I know he's asleep.

I look up to find that everyone's smiling at me except Vincent, and even his normally stoic expression has softened a little. I flush self-consciously and clear my throat.

"Anyway, the last of us was Lightning," I tell them, keeping my voice down so that Seph can sleep. "We met her near the end of our journey. She'd been brought to Cosmos' world long after even I was, and she'd been there for about three weeks by the time Zack and I stumbled on her-"

"Literally!" Zack stage-whispers from behind his hand, barely even pretending to conceal his words. I roll my eyes yet again, but press on.

"As I was saying, she'd already been there for about three weeks before we found her. She'd already gotten her Crystal, too, so we invited her to travel with us. Safety in numbers and all. Anyway, she's a lot like how I used to be, back when my head was messed up during Meteor and all. But she's got a soft side to her that I didn't have back then."

Tifa grins slyly at me. "Did you get along with her, Miss Cloud?"

My jaw _drops._

I whip around to stare at my fiancée, mortified that she would bring up such a delicate subject. She just laughs at my expense, and I shake my head.

"Anyway, that's all of them," I say before Yuffie can ask questions. "Like I told you, Sephiroth joined us later, but you know about him and me already. Not much more to-"

I'm cut off as a jaw-cracking yawn overtakes me, and I cover my mouth, feeling my eyes water. Suddenly, I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep for a week.

"Shit," I mumble, wiping at my eyes futilely before another yawn strikes. Tifa's smiling at me, and she looks tired, too. Suddenly, Yuffie's leaning forward on the table, her own eyelids beginning to droop.

"Looks like we all need some sleep," Tifa states. I nod, and slip my arms around Sephiroth before I get up, careful not to wake him. Vincent is rousing Yuffie slightly as he clears away the plate and knife and fork she used to eat her midnight snack. The utensils clatter faintly as they slip into the metal sink.

I bid goodnight to Yuffie and Vincent, and Tifa and I make our way upstairs. I briefly ponder the wisdom of letting Sephiroth sleep in his own bed, and then I decide against it. My room'll be quieter, and I know that Seph's as tired as I am, if not more. To my surprise, Tifa enters my room behind me and waits until I tuck Seph beneath my blanket before I turn to her. Then she slips her arms around my waist and buries her face in my neck, and I can't do anything else but hold her as a feeling of contented happiness settles into my chest. It's a good feeling.

"Teef?" I ask softly, so that I don't wake Sephiroth up. She hums.

"Yeah?" Tifa sounds sleepy, and I find myself smiling.

"I'm sorry about all this," I tell her. "You know, disappearing and all. We didn't mean to."

She sighs, and her arms tighten briefly around me before she replies, "I know. You just… It's just…"

"We scared you." It's not a question. I know I've hit the nail right on the head when she sighs again and tightens her grip once more. "I understand."

"One day you were there, and the next thing I know, I'm being woken up by Rinoa's crying and by Marlene panicking and telling me that you and Sephiroth are gone," she whispers. "And I could've sworn I saw a SOLDIER in my room, too, and he looked worried."

I hum. "That was probably Angeal."

I feel her lift her head off of my neck, and I lean back slightly so that I can meet her questioning glance with my own calm one.

"Angeal?" she asks. I nod.

"Angeal Hewley, Zackary's dad," I reply. "He's dead, but he was going to go wake you up when I was having that seizure from the Mako withdrawal."

Her eyes widen. "I saw a _ghost?_"

I can't fight down the smirk that creeps across my lips when her voice squeaks on the last word.

"Yep," I quip, my voice almost cheerful. "You probably would've seen Zack, too, but he got sucked into Cosmos' world with me and became a Summon."

She stares up at me for a long moment. Then she huffs out a laugh and leans her forehead against my collarbone.

"We attract the strangest people, don't we?" she asks wryly, and I can't help but agree, much to my amusement.

"And to think, before all this we were actually halfway _normal,_" I return. Tifa looks up at me with a raised eyebrow.

"'Normal'?" she echoes, voice dry. "Since when have _you_ ever been _normal?_"

I think about that for a long moment. Then I realize that I actually can't answer.

"Guess I haven't." I shrug. "Normality is overrated, anyway. If we didn't have such abnormal things happen to us, life would be downright boring."

Tifa's jaw actually drops, for a second. Then she realizes that I'm joking, and laughs, absently thumping me on the back with one of her hands as she leans her forehead against my chest again. We're quiet for a long few minutes. I find my eyelids drooping, and shake myself awake. Glancing around the room, I realize that Rinoa and Aerith's crib isn't there, which means that they're sleeping in Tifa's room. I smile softly when I also realize that my fiancée is leaning heavily on me, half asleep, herself.

"C'mon, Tifa," I murmur, and bend over to gently scoop her into my arms. She doesn't even protest the motion as I cradle her bridal-style and exit the room. Zack meets us in the hallway and smirks knowingly at me before nodding and disappearing in a burst of Mako-green pyreflies. I feel his energy return to my body, bolstering my strength and staving off my weariness enough for me to climb the stairs, shoulder open Tifa's room, and tuck her into her own bed.

As I bend down and press my lips to Tifa's forehead, I realize that she's already almost asleep. She murmurs a half-coherent goodnight, and then I listen while her breathing deepens and evens out, signifying her transition into dreamland.

I check on Rinoa and Aerith before I leave the room. The two girls are sleeping peacefully, curled up together in a way that only babies can manage without it being awkward. I just have to smile at them. Pressing the first two fingers of my right hand to my lips, I transfer a kiss to Rinoa's pudgy cheek, and then do the same to Aerith, silently wishing them both sweet dreams.

Then I leave the room and head back to my own, ready for some well-earned shut-eye.

It's as I slide into bed after changing into a pair of cotton pants and a t-shirt that I sense Sephiroth shifting around. I lay still until he stops moving, coming to a rest curled against my side, and then I pull the blanket over us both and wrap an arm around my son, relaxing back into my pillow.

A pillow! Thank God for inspiring someone to create such a wonderful device! The feather-stuffed cloth feels heavenly to my weary head. Come to think of it, I don't think I've slept in a proper bed since we stayed in Nibelheim while on that mission for Cosmos. And technically, that doesn't count, since we had our mission hanging over our heads and we were snowed in and we were all anxious as to whether or not we'd all make it out alive, plus a thousand other worries and annoyances that added up and made for a stressful semi-vacation from our mission…

Ah, that train of thought doesn't even make sense! I think I'd better just go to sleep.

'_I agree,'_ Zack quips. _'Wouldn't want you to hurt your pretty Chocobo brain, now, would we?'_

Shut up, you asshole. I'm trying to get to sleep.

'_Ouch, that burns.'_ And he's totally insincere, too. _'You'd better apologize in the morning.'_

Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Now let me sleep, or I swear I'll kick your ass.

'_Fine, fine, you jerk. I hope you have nightmares.'_

Love you, too, you prick. Goodnight.

'_Shut up and get to sleep.'_ But I can tell he's laughing.

It's then that I know that if I ever had the option of choosing who I'd want to have as a big brother, I'd choose Zack in a heartbeat. Without a doubt.

That amusing thought in my head, I close my eyes and let my dreams sweep me away.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__ Final Fantasy IS NOT MINE! I wish you lawyers would get that through your thick heads. Nyah._

_Sorry that the chapter's about a week late. First I had inspirational problems, and then life interfered, and then my internet kicked out again. I'm really sorry!_

_My thoughts on this chapter? "Zack. *grin*" What more is there to say? _

_I realize that the part where he's recounting the traits of the Dissidia cast to Tifa, Vincent, and Yuffie was really redundant, but to be honest, I kinda lost inspiration for this chapter. It was more of a transition sort of thing, anyway, but in the end, I kind of like how it turned out. It gave me the chance to explore the others' reactions to Cloud's description of the Dissidia cast, and I also got the chance to explore how Tifa might react to Cloud's story. I think it was reasonable that she wouldn't really believe him. After all, it's pretty far-fetched, and this wouldn't be the first time that Cloud's disappeared on her without warning. Tifa was worried sick and angry to boot, especially since Sephiroth vanished, too. Now imagine those feelings of worry and anger building and building for two weeks (in their time). Sure, she was originally ecstatic enough at Cloud and Sephiroth's return that she forgot her negative emotions, but she's likely to have remembered them during the course of Cloud's story. Thinking that he's making it all up, those emotions come out full-force and she slaps Cloud. The rest is history…_

_Sorry. Just trying to take a peek into Tifa's mind and decipher the emotions driving her actions, that's all. What with writing this whole story from Cloud's point of view, I've been able to get into his head more than anyone else's. I'm usually able to empathize with Tifa very well- she and I are a LOT alike- but I'm in "Cloud-mode" and so… Um, yeah… I'm rambling again._

_Please excuse my ramblings- it's two in the morning and I'm not fully awake._

_Thank you very much to those of you who reviewed recently! __**Calenlass Greenleaf1**__, __**CleverPhoenix**__, __**Steph**__, and __**Ayame Harushino**__, you guys are all awesome! I'm so glad you liked the last chapter, and it was very interesting to read your thoughts on it. To __**Ayame Harushino**__: You're totally right. Usually, when a fanfic (or even a published story) mentions God, the story usually bashes Him from here to Singapore and back for various fictitious reasons tailor-made to suit the setting and intended characterization of the people involved. I sometimes read those, but usually I don't because it's so depressingly unfair. It's just sad when people think that the world's out to get them and blame it on God because they have nothing else to pin it on, such as nature (in the case of natural disasters), the evil nature of other people (in the case of things such as terrorism), or anything else that could easily be explained by the means of worldly terms. Ugh. It kind of makes me want to read something funny just to keep myself from feeling depressed._

_On a personal note? If God wasn't working in my heart, I don't know how I'd be able to go on. I've had some trying times in my life when I've doubted my faith, and thankfully, God has always pulled through for me. When I look back on those times and realize how I felt during them, I realize how empty my life was without His presence in my heart, and I realize how blessed I am to have Him by my side every second of every day and every night, strengthening me with every heartbeat and every moment that passes by. Without God, I feel that my life would be very empty, and that I would be constantly dissatisfied because I would constantly try to find something to fill that void in my heart, whether it was work, or play, or boyfriends, or anything else materialistic._

_Um… Sorry if that sounds really cheesy. I'm not trying to proselytize. That's just how I feel about it. I respect all of you, I respect your beliefs, and I'm very glad and very grateful that we do see eye-to-eye on certain aspects of these subjects. I'm also glad that the inclusion of God in this story didn't turn you off of it. __So, if you don't agree with me upon the subject of God or religion, then feel free to skip over the previous paragraph._

_Half-conscious ramblings aside, thank you all again for such great feedback! *totters off to get some shut-eye*_

_Next chapter should be posted… Um, does 7-4-2010 sound good? XD_

_-__**P**__ortrait of a __**S**__cribe_


	21. Evermore

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

_**Chapter 21: Evermore.**_

* * *

"_We cannot be sure of having something to live for unless we are willing to die for it."  
__-Che Guavara_

* * *

I'm woken rather abruptly as something lands on my middle and drives all the air out of my lungs. My eyes fly open and I bolt upwards, my head colliding with that of my best friend. Zack yelps and falls backwards off of my bed as I groan and rub my forehead, where I can feel a nice lump beginning to form. Then I turn to glare at Zack, who's sitting on my floor rubbing his own forehead.

Zack is unique among Summons in that he's self-sustaining. Beyond the initial burst of energy needed to materialize him, he hangs around either until he gets dispelled, I recall him, or he gets bored enough to dispel himself, all at no cost to my energy levels. After that? Well, let's just say he derives the majority of his entertainment from intruding on my thoughts and adding his own commentary.

An asshole, he is.

"What's the big idea?" I demand, glaring at him. He grins up at me unabashedly.

"Two things, Spike," he says, bouncing to his feet and leaning down to look me in the eye where I'm huddled in the middle of my bed. "Firstly, you've got a wedding to prepare for. Secondly, you have some visitors."

I blink, and then groan as I realize what he's talking about.

I'm getting married today.

It's been three months since Sephiroth and I were returned from Cosmos' world. Tifa and I finally set a wedding date about two days after our reunion. Since then, we've been busy getting things ready for the event, planning things out… you know the drill, right? Yeah, well… It hasn't been the most interesting _or_ stress-free three months. Still… I don't think I'd have traded them for anything in the world.

As it is, our wedding day has arrived, and, as I glance at the clock, I realize that I only have an hour left until we're supposed to be at the city square. Swearing profusely, I scramble out of bed and grab the bag that my tux is in from where it's hanging over the back of the chair. I realize that Denzel, Sephiroth, and Zackary are still sleeping in their own bed and cot on the other side of the room from me, and as I unzip the bag and begin removing the suit from it, I toss a pillow at Zackary to rouse him. He comes up sputtering, his eyes wide, and wondering where the SOLDIERs are attacking from.

"Get up," I call to him. "Get your brothers up. We have an hour until the wedding." I turn a glare on Zack as I strip out of my pajamas, leaving me in my boxers. "Zack, help them get ready."

Zack can change his clothes at will, as I've found out repeatedly. It's a skill I envy him for, but in this case, it'll come in handy, since it means he can get the boys ready so I don't have to. After all, he can change in an instant. Let him deal with the headaches of getting the kids up and changed.

Hee hee hee. Tifa would say I have a devious streak if she could see me now. Too bad I'm not going to see her again until the ceremony.

Oh, well.

It's only a second later that I realize that I have to shower before I get changed.

Shit.

I hurry into the bathroom after grabbing one of my spare pairs of boxers, and all but dive into the shower. Five minutes later, I've washed my hair and body, rinsed, and toweled off, and I'm struggling into my clean boxers and tux pants and brushing my teeth at the same time. Maybe it's a good thing that I haven't eaten yet, today, or it would take longer than it already will to get ready.

Aw, who am I kidding?

Triple shit on a shingle. I can't figure out this shirt.

"Zack!" I call uneasily, fumbling with the waist wrappings. "S.O.S.! S.O.S.!"

"Hold still." The voice isn't Zack's, but I recognize it nonetheless. I turn my head and look at Squall over my shoulder.

"Thanks," I tell him, nodding in gratitude, and then I face forward again. "I've never worn one of these things before."

Squall grunts, but doesn't say anything else.

He and the others apparently just got here, because I can see a bag of Squall's possessions sitting next to the door, ready for him to change into them.

"Yo, Squall!" Zack calls from where he's helping Zackary into his clothes. Sephiroth is blinking sleepily at us, and Denzel is still asleep on his cot.

Did I mention that we're in Kalm? Yeah… Barret, Elmyra, Vincent, and Yuffie are going to watch the kids for Tifa and me for tonight so that we can have at least a little time to ourselves. The rest of the Warriors of Cosmos are staying for probably about three days. I guess they all figure it'll be a nice chance to get to know my world, or at least take a vacation of sorts from their own problems. The people who're less technologically advanced than us, for example, are probably going to have a blast figuring out how everything works.

Well, most of them, at least. I'm not so sure about some… Who knows? Maybe Zidane'll pick Yuffie's pockets (or try to, at least) and prevent her from snapping any embarrassing photos of me… and Tifa, of course.

Before you ask, no, I haven't forgotten that she kept (and then lost) the photo of me in a dress from the Don Corneo incident in Wall Market.

Ahem.

Anyway, Squall just finished helping me fasten the clasps on the waist wrappings, and now I'm struggling into the jacket.

"Thanks, Squall," I tell him with a nod, and then I glance at the clock.

Shit, shit, shitshitshit. We only have ten minutes before we're supposed to be there! Damnit, damnit, damnit!

Not that I'm that worried about being on time for my own sake- I just know that Teef'll _kill_ me if I'm late to my own wedding. I'd never live it down. It would go up there with the Wall Market Incident AND the fact that I got Tifa pregnant before we were married AND the Portal-Walking Incident. You know, that time in Cosmos' world when I fell off the invisible pathway between the floating castle and the portal, and Cecil had to save my ass? Yeah, that time.

And not to mention that Tifa's scarier than any monster I've ever faced. Yes. She's scary.

But I love her anyway.

Ahem. Zack's got the kids dressed and ready, and Squall's already gotten changed (how did he do it that quickly?), so I grab Sephiroth, plant him on my hip, and gather the rest of them with a look. Zack picks up Denzel and Zackary, one under each arm, and together the three of us dash across the street to where the others are all waiting. Our friends are all there already, dressed in their best for the occasion, and I can feel my cheeks heating as I realize that we're the last ones here besides the procession and its members. I glance at the clock tower.

Phew! Made it!

I quickly set Sephiroth down next to where Barret is standing at the back of the gathering, and Zack follows me to the front until he sets Zackary and Denzel down next to the trellis. Yeah. They're going to be part of this wedding. To my right is standing an old man whom I've met only once or twice, but who Tifa wouldn't let the wedding go off without: Master Zangan. He'll be performing the ceremony.

I see Squall take his seat next to a young woman with pale skin, black hair that has brown highlights in it, and dark, laughing eyes. She looks like Tifa.

Must be that Rinoa girl I've heard so much about.

I can see Cecil and his wife, Rosa, sitting on the groom's side of the aisle, which represents _my_ family, since all my blood relatives are dead. Cecil's wearing what must be some kind of formal robes from his world (blue, purple, and silver in color) and Rosa is dressed in a gown to match his robes. Next to Cecil is Onion Knight, looking almost strange in a tunic of red and gold-colored leggings. In front of them are Aren, dressed in a tunic, leggings, and cape of a blue color with flowing silver designs embroidered on the hems; and Terra, looking carefree in a green dress. Beside Terra is Firion, dressed in a silver outfit similar in cut to Aren's. The row in front of them is occupied by Squall, dressed in formal military blacks; Rinoa, wearing a blue sundress; and Bartz, who's wearing his usual outfit and a huge grin. In front of them is Zidane, who's wearing a strangely formal set of robes of a sapphire color. His golden tail is poking out from underneath them- I can see it waving lazily near his feet. Sitting beside him is a young woman with raven hair and black eyes, grinning at Zidane and wearing a gown of muted red. A silver tiara is sitting on her forehead. On her other side is Lightning, looking stoic as usual even though I can see her eyes twinkling as she returns my look. She's wearing a green sundress.

I smile at her, and then frown in confusion as I realize that I can't seem to find Tidus in the group. Then I spot him sitting in the back row. He's wearing some kind of formal outfit that looks entirely foreign on him- even he doesn't look comfortable in it- even though it's made of some kind of fabric that fades from sapphire to sky-blue. Next to him is a young woman with brown hair. It's only due to my Mako-enhanced eyesight that I can tell that her eyes are bi-colored. She's wearing robes similar to Tidus', though hers consists of a Wutaian-looking shirt with a purple skirt under it and a wide belt. On Tidus' other side is Jecht, fidgeting with a black-and-red shirt that he's been made to wear that's similar in cut to Tidus'.

Poor guy looks awkward as hell. Oh, well.

On the bride's side (and representing her family since Tifa is also an orphan), Cid is sitting beside Elmyra and Vincent, who's been kind enough to watch Rinoa and Aerith for the duration of the ceremony. Cid's actually gotten cleaned up, for once. Vincent's looking sharp in a black suit with a red shirt beneath it, though he keeps fidgeting with his claw. He looks almost embarrassed about it. Aerith is wearing a little pink dress that Tifa picked out for her, and she has a pink ribbon in her hair. Rinoa- my daughter, that is- is wearing a white sundress and a bonnet, and I just have to grin when I spot her chewing on a strand of Vincent's hair.

He needs to get it cut, if he's planning to stick around and watch my baby grow up. God knows she's going to start teething, soon…

I shudder, thinking about it. Teething, gah!

Reeve is sitting in the second row back beside Elena and Tseng. Frankly, I have no idea why Tifa invited the Turks, but Reeve is wearing his usual formal black suit, same as the Turks. Reno and Rude are sitting behind them- Reno actually cleaned up, for once, same as Cid- and with them is Rufus Shinra. I don't even know why he's here. Don't think we invited him…

The Turks, I can actually tolerate a little bit. Rufus, on the other hand…

Let's just say that I'm going to avoid him like the plague, or there might be problems at the reception.

The prick's even wearing white, today. Not that that's any different than his usual color, but really? White? Is he trying to outshine Tifa, or something? Jackass.

Sigh. Anyway, Red XIII is curled up at Vincent's feet, where Aerith is petting him gently on the head. I think I can hear him purring. And Shera, Yuffie, and Barret are all in the wedding party, as is Sephiroth, so I think everyone's here.

Huh. Who'da thunkit? We're all here together. _Everyone._

As the music begins to play, I realize that Zack hasn't changed, yet, and I lean over to him.

"Zack, if you're going to be my best man, you've gotta get changed," I hiss. He blinks at me, then his face lights up.

"Oh, right!" he exclaims. A second later, there's a slight flash, and he's standing next to me in a tux. He tosses me a superior-looking smirk and clips on a bowtie just as I see Marlene start down the aisle.

She looks adorable, and she's wearing a little white dress, scattering lily petals across the aisle. Her hair's done up in her customary braid with her pink bow in it, and I have to say, she and Aerith look like they could be blood sisters.

Following Marlene is Sephiroth, looking somewhat ruffled in his black suit. He's carrying a small pillow with the rings on top of it, and his face is bright red, probably from hearing all the women cooing over him. I have to tease him about that later, after I stop laughing. Seems Sephiroth is still a chick-magnet even at age four.

Yeah… He turned four last month. It's hard to believe, isn't it?

After him is Shera, walking gracefully down the aisle, looking beautiful in a tastefully designed dress of dark red. I glance at Cid and see him leaning out of his chair to follow his wife with his eyes, only to be tugged back into place by Red's teeth. Cid grimaces and glares at Red before he sits back again. Red's one golden eye meets my own gaze, and he nods with a canine sort of grin. I return the smile, grateful that he's there to keep Cid in line.

Yuffie is the next one down the aisle, and this time I catch Vincent with his stare locked on my ninja friend. I snicker and nudge Zack, glancing surreptitiously at Vincent, and Zack nudges me back, his quiet chuckles telling me that he sees it, too.

Then a flash of ivory-white enters the corner of my eye, and I turn to stare as Barret leads Tifa down the aisle.

I think my jaw just dropped. Seriously.

Tifa's dress is an ivory color with a short train. It's strapless, with an empire waist that emphasizes her slender figure. A crimson sash to match the bridesmaids' dresses is tied at her waist to add a splash of color and also to pay homage to her part-Wutaian heritage, which she gets from her mother's side of the family.

Me? My grandfather on my dad's side was Wutaian. I know the language decently well, but I'm lost on most of the customs. About the only thing I know is that red is the color of purity, the color that a virginal bride (or in this case, a first-time bride) wears to her wedding.

Obviously, Tifa's not a virgin… but that's beside the point.

My point is that, all babbling aside, Tifa's totally radiant, and I can see her grinning from behind her veil. I vaguely feel Zack reach up and push my mouth closed, and then I feel my cheeks heat when I realize what he just did. I elbow him while everyone's still fixated on Tifa.

Barret goes unnoticed by me as I walk over to meet my fiancée, taking her hand in mine after Barret lifts the veil from her face and kisses her on the forehead. He glares at me after I manage to tear my gaze away from her own wine-red one.

"You take care of her, Spikey," Barret rumbles at me. I finally meet his eyes with determination.

"I will," I promise, and that's one promise I'll give anything to keep. Then I turn back to Tifa and we step forward under the trellis.

I know a lot of guys get scared of marriage and commitment and all, and they usually try to caution other guys away from it, but you know what? I don't care about any of that.

This is right. This is natural. And you know what else? All those guys are lying, because I have never before felt surer of anything in my life.

Zangan asks me for my vow, and I'm wholly prepared for it even though I have no idea what I'm about to say. I just focus on Tifa, and try to express how much I love her in what words I can muster up.

"Tifa," I begin, "I've known you almost my whole life. You've been there for me through thick and thin, and you've been the one to kick some sense into my head when I'm being ridiculously stubborn or stupid."

I can hear some people chuckling in the audience, but I don't care.

"When we were little, I made you a promise that I would come and save you if you were ever in a bind." My mind flashes back to a starry night on top of the Nibelheim well, to a blue dress and big red eyes and whispered promises. "I tried my best to keep that promise, even though I think you probably saved me more than I've ever saved you. Now…" I pause, and try to speak around the fact that I'm getting lost in her eyes and that she's getting teary and she's smiling at me…

"I'm here to make you a new promise in addition to the one that's bound us together since the day I left Nibelheim," I tell her, and I mean it with my whole heart. "Tifa Lockheart, from this day forward, I promise to love, honor, and cherish you, to protect and provide for you, to remain evermore faithful to you, and to stay by your side through thick and thin for all the days of our lives, just as you've done for me all these years."

Okay, that was really, _really_ mushy… but I don't really care, you know? I meant what I just said, mushiness be hanged. Oh, wait. Tifa's speaking…

"Cloud Strife, you are the most thick-headed, dunderbrained, backwoods hick to have ever been dropped on his head in the crags of Mount Nibel," she says. I raise an eyebrow at her, hearing Zack choking back his laughter behind me. Tifa's smiling at me.

"But you're also the most sincere man I've ever met, and among the bravest as well," she continues. "You were born on the slopes of one of the harshest mountains to grace our planet, but you've never been anything but kind to me, even if your actions were sometimes unnecessary. You've always come for me whenever I've been in a bind, even if you were late. And you've always been my best friend, the one person I can always count on for honesty or compassion or anything else I might need." She pauses, then smiles and continues, "Even if it's chocolate and vanilla ice cream with pickles, mustard, and red pepper flakes on top at two o'clock in the morning."

I can't help smiling at that memory, and I hear some of the people in the gathering groaning or laughing, as well.

"I pledge henceforth to love you, to honor you, and to cherish you, to care for you and to bear your children-" I blush slightly at that, "-to remain evermore faithful to you, and to stay by your side come what may, for all the days of our lives."

I hear Yuffie sniffle loudly, and Zangan speaks up again, holding out a green silk ribbon. The green ribbon symbolizes new life, new beginnings, springtime, and other such things, and it stands for the new life that Tifa and I will be beginning together starting today.

"Cloud," he begins, "hold out your left hand and cross it over Tifa's right hand."

I do as he tells me to, placing my left palm over Tifa's, feeling the calluses on her skin from the years she's spent fighting and practicing the martial arts. She looks up at me and smiles.

"This cloth binds these two people together even as their souls will be forevermore bound to each other," Zangan continues, wrapping the ribbon around our wrists and tying it securely. Then he calls Sephiroth forward.

"As a symbol of this bond, these two exchange these rings."

I reach down with my free hand and take the smaller ring from the pillow that Seph is holding, grinning at him before I reach out to Tifa's left hand and slide the slender golden band onto her fourth finger.

"With this ring, I, Cloud Strife, pledge myself to you, Tifa Lockheart."

Tifa's got tears in her eyes as she reaches down with her left hand and picks up the remaining ring, reaching around the ribbon to slide it onto the fourth finger of my left hand.

"With this ring, I, Tifa Lockheart, pledge myself to you, Cloud Strife."

Zangan looks at us, and I can tell that the old martial artist is satisfied.

"Then, with all present as witnesses, let it be known that these two are one in the eyes of God and of the state, such as it is," he announces to the gathering, and then he turns back to me and Tifa. "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

I grin and do just that, to cheers, catcalls, and a round of applause from our friends and family. I feel Zackary and Denzel and Sephiroth and Marlene slam into mine and Tifa's legs, all of them laughing and hugging us. My focus is entirely on the woman in my arms, who I can feel grinning as I briefly pull away for a breath before I dive back in for another chaste-but-passionate kiss. Zack is bawling behind me, and I think Yuffie's doing the same, and I can hear Barret crowing something about it being "about damn time." I can hear Tidus shouting something along the lines of, "You go, Cloud!"

And I don't think I've ever been this happy.

Just remind me to kill Tidus later on.

* * *

_**The End… for now.**_

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Final Fantasy or any related characters._

_And so the end! It's been a great journey rewriting my two old stories, but I'm rather proud of how it's all turned out! I really hope you all enjoyed reading this fic as much as I've enjoyed writing it._

_I know someone's going to ask about a sequel, but I'm not sure if I'll do an actual sequel or not. Probably not, to be honest. There will definitely be sequel-like short stories that I'll post as I come up with them, but as far as I know, there won't be a full-length sequel. "Cast Me Gently" is my baby, my current Final Fantasy masterpiece, and I don't think I'll be able to top it for some time at least. Don't worry- I'm not going to stop writing Final Fantasy. It's just that, now that Dissidia's over, Hojo's dead, Rinoa's been born, and Cloud and Tifa are finally hitched, there's not much more to write about except for how life's going to be for them from now on. If I think of something good to add to this, I'll add it, but I can't promise any long chapters or anything._

_Of course, knowing me, as soon as I post this I'll probably get another bout of inspiration and write another chapter… Sigh._

_A huge thank you goes out to everyone who has read this story, even those of you who never reviewed! To those people who reviewed the last chapter, a huge thank you and hugs to all of you! This means you, __**CleverPhoenix**__, __**Steph**__, **Calenlass Greenleaf1**, and __**Ayame Harushino**__! You four have been my most constant reviewers- for that, for your support, and for your constructive and kind comments, I owe you more thanks than I can ever express in words. Your comments gave me inspiration to continue writing even with all the problems I've been having (and am still having! O.o) and your encouragement was utterly priceless. Thank you so much for everything!_

_One more thing before I say "Ja mata ne!"_

_**HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY, MY FELLOW AMERICANS!**_

_Ja mata ne, Amerika-jin to minna-san!_

_**-P**__ortrait of a __**S**__cribe_


	22. Doghouse

_**Cast Me Gently Into Morning  
**__**by Portrait of a Scribe**_

_**Chapter 22: Doghouse.**_

* * *

"_C'est la vie."  
__-French adage_

* * *

There are three things that a guy can't _ever_ forget, upon pain of… well, pain. One: His wife's birthday. Two: Their anniversary. And three: To give her a gift on all the important holidays, such as Christmas, Easter, and Valentine's Day.

It would seem that I've forgotten to do at least one of those things… at least, seeing as how Tifa's had me sleeping on the couch for the past three days.

Shit.

Of course, Zack finds this whole thing to be utterly hilarious. He keeps snickering at me at odd hours of the night (or day, if he feels like it) and singing the most inane things… Things such as "Who's in the dog-house? Who, who, who who who WHO?" Or another favorite of his, "He's BAD COMPANY! And she can't deny…"

Currently, he's singing, '_Keeeeeep RUN-NING ooonnn… 'cause you know she'll castrate you, she'll castrate you. Just STAAAY strong… 'cause you know she's after you, she's after you. There's nothing you can SAY! Nothing you can DO! There's no other way when your lover's spurned you, so keeeeep RUN-NING ooonnnn, 'cause you know she'll bury you, she'll bury youuuu…'_

Two words, Zack: Fuck. You.

'_Aww, you know you love me.'_

Lucky for you that I can't throttle you at the moment, you mean.

'_Aww, whassa matter, mister grumpy-gills?'_

Blink. Blink. Blink.

What. The. Fuck?

He's silent for a second. _'You know you love me. Admit it.'_

If he thinks I'm going to respond to that, he's got another think coming.

…

Aww, _shit._

'_You're starting to sound like Barret.'_

It's all your fault.

'_It's not my fault you've got your panties in a perpetual knot.'_

It's _all_ your fault.

'_Hey, now,'_ he protests. _'It wasn't __**me**__ who decided that getting up before Tifa on her __**birthday**__ and then trying to burn down the house cooking her breakfast would be a good idea.'_

But that's not even what she's mad about! Argh!

'_Oh?'_ He sounds intrigued.

Yeah. She thought it was sweet that I even tried. She wasn't even that exasperated after I got the smoke stains off the ceiling and replaced the pan I melted.

'_Then this mishap must've been sometime while I was out of your head,'_ he surmises. There's a long pause. _'Care to share, Cloudy-kins?'_

Not if you call me that again. Then all you'll be hearing from me is the laughter that I emit as I use your hide to sharpen First Tsurugi with.

'_Ouch, that's cold.'_

Life's a bitch.

'_So're you.'_

Thank yo- HEY!

He's laughing at me again, but I just sigh and sink a bit further into the cushions of the couch. Seph is curled up against my right side, and Denzel's got his head in my lap where he's lying on my left side. Zackary is sprawled across Denzel's side with his knees hanging over the back of the couch and his left hand stuck in my armpit. He's snoring like a sleeping behemoth- it's a wonder that Rinoa, who's curled up on my chest, hasn't gotten woken up yet.

All right, I guess I'll tell you. Maybe you can help me figure out what went wrong.

'_That's what I'm here for.'_

Really? I kinda thought you were just here to annoy the crap out of me.

'_I aim to please. Now, please continue.'_

…

It all started Wednesday morning. Or night, if you'd like to call it that. Anyway, Rinoa started fussing, so I, being half-asleep, didn't really register what I was hearing. So, next thing I know, I'm lying on the floor, wondering how I got there and why on Gaia my butt was hurting so bad.

'…_You __**do**__ realize how wrong that sounds, right?'_

…Shut up. That just came out wrong, that's all.

'_Right-o, Cloud, whatever you say.'_

Sigh.

Continuing on… I get up and look over to the bed to see that Tifa's blinking up at me. Then she smiles and thanks me for getting up to see to Rinoa and goes back to sleep, and I'm standing there like an _idiot_ wondering when she trained me.

'…_Whipped!'_ His stage-whisper is loud enough that he's easily audible.

Like you're one to talk. Aerith _still _has you wrapped around her little finger, you jackass.

'_Coughwhippedcoughcough! Ugh, sorry, I think I'm coming down with something.'_

You're a Summon, Zack, and you aren't technically even alive. You can't _get_ sick.

'…_Servant boy.'_

Cradle-robber.

'_Ouch, that's a __**really**__ low blow, Cloudy-kins. Besides, if I were you, I'd be a bit more worried about Sephiroth if you're gonna get all über-protective of Aerith.' _He sniffs disdainfully. _'I don't age, anyway. When she turns eighteen, I'll still be as hot, charming, and good-looking as ever.'_

…You do realize how redundant that statement is, don't you?

'…_Shut up and stop being such a buzz-kill, servant boy.'_

I'm not a servant boy. Besides, I don't think Seph is really interested in relationships of that nature at this point in time. He's only _four,_ Zack.

'_You can never start too early…'_ He's sing-songing this.

Fuck you and your lame-ass predictions. Now, do you want me to finish my story or not?

'_Sigh. Sure, sure, tell away.'_

Eye-roll out the wazoo.

Anyway, so I go take care of Rinoa, who starts crying as soon as I pick her up, and I suddenly can't get her to calm down and I don't know what to do. So I turn to Tifa for advice, right?

'_Right.'_

And she gives me this _look._

'_Ooh, you mean the one that's like, "why can't you take care of this by yourself?"'_

Exactly. So I tell her, "She's your daughter, too, so would you mind giving a man some advice?" And the next thing I know, Tifa's glaring at me and taking Rinoa from me and I'm being pushed out of the room with Aerith in my arms so that Rinoa's fussing doesn't wake her up.

…

'…'

…

'…_Is that it?'_

Sigh. Yeah.

'…_Is it just me, or is Tifa being temperamental?'_

I frown.

Yeah, I guess she is, but still… I can't see where I went wrong. I just asked her for some advice!

He's quiet for a long moment, presumably thinking.

'_Do you think she might be pregnant again?'_

My eyes grow wide. Really wide. I know that if I didn't have three kids pinning me down, I'd be bolting up the stairs to ask Tifa about it. Don't get me wrong- I love being a dad- but if we had another kid, that would make seven, and we're already all cramped as it is.

As soon as I think this, I hear the door to the upstairs bathroom close and Tifa comes downstairs, looking positively _green_. I gulp, watching her apprehensively.

"…Teef?" I venture after a moment as she sits down in the rocking chair. She looks over at me, and I realize that she looks totally _exhausted._

"You okay?" I ask warily. Maybe if I really, _really_ watch what I'm saying, she won't bite my head off or castrate me or anything…

Tifa nods. "I'm sure I'll be fine. But I think I might've gotten food poisoning from that Wutai One we ordered the other day."

I wince in sympathy. I've had food poisoning before. Not pleasant at all.

"If there's anything I can do…" I leave the offer open-ended, allowing her to interpret it how she will. She smiles gratefully at me.

"Thanks, Cloud," she says, leaning her head back against the back of the rocking chair. "You're such a sweetheart."

I can feel my cheeks heat. Tifa's probably the only one I'll actually let call me that without fear of retribution.

"By the way…"

I freeze in the midst of relaxing, and look over at Tifa again, cocking my head in a way that lets her know I'm listening.

"I know we can't choose, but which would you rather have?"

I frown, wondering what she's talking about. Her next words make the blood drain from my face even as nervous joy fills my chest.

"A boy or a girl?"

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Final Fantasy VII or any related characters. I only own Rinoa and Zackary Hewley. Nyaah!_

_This came to me randomly today and I decided I had to write it. It's posted on here for your convenience as well as my own- too much effort to create a new story and then have people asking about the "Cast Me Gently" continuity I've got going. So here it is, the unofficial Chapter 22._

_Poor Cloud. What a bombshell for Tifa to drop on him. By the way, the songs Zack was singing were parodies of "Who Let the Dogs Out," by the Baha Men, "Bad Company," by Bad Company, and "Keep Holding On," by Avril Lavigne, respectively. I had a lot of fun with them, if you couldn't tell. :)_

_I LOVE ZACK. XD_

_Ah, hell. It's like I said about last chapter: "As soon as I post this, I'll get another bout of inspiration and write another chapter..."_

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last "Official" __**Cast Me Gently Into Morning**__ chapter: __**Ayame Harushino**__, __**CleverPhoenix**__, and __**Steph**__! You guys are wonderful, and I hope that this short one lives up to your expectations. :)_

_-__**P**__ortrait of a __**S**__cribe_


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